The Wild Ones
by hellohades
Summary: Derek goes into his first heat as Alpha, and the wolf within him clearly has feelings for Stiles. Will have a continuation story.
1. New

**Note: I twisted the timeline a little. Hope you don't mind~ but it fits better with the story. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

**The Wild** **Ones  
**_So New_

_**"If you're going through hell, keep going."**  
-Winston Churchill_

* * *

Derek doesn't fight it. Honestly he doesn't even really try. He might, on the odd occasion it becomes a public issue, but mostly he's able to smother it beneath a stony glare or a soft growl.

It's a tugging, aching, gnawing feeling, burning deep within his gut. His stomach erupts at the sound of the brown eyed boys subtle exhale, and even, sometimes, when the boy is tired and rubs at his eyes after long hours sitting in front of the computer screen, Derek has the urge to carry him off to bed and force him to sleep—to watch over and protect him. Something bubbles deep within his chest at the boy's laugh, and sometimes, most of the time—actually all of the time—his heart beats so quickly against his ribcage when the boy walks into the room that he fears he'll almost give himself away again and again—and worries that he'll wake up with bruises on his bones.

He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding as Stiles takes a seat next to him and throws him a crooked, easy smile. How could this be so simple for him? Derek wonders, even as he's shaking in his seat beside the boy. He's cool, he's got a grip, it's all right, everything's under control; Derek thinks.

Except it's not. Not really. Scott knows already. He knows in the way Derek's heart stutters when Stiles passes him, or in the way that his face becomes something similar to a wounded animals wince when they're up in Stiles' room researching, and all Derek wants to do is touch Stiles. He wants to reach out and stroke his pouty lips and his child-like puffy cheeks and it takes everything in his power to keep his hands to himself.

Scott smiles knowingly, and Derek glares at him until he leaves the room with Allison in tow.

* * *

"You okay, man?" Scott asks one afternoon, sitting beside him as Stiles and Lydia toppled into the lake together. It's a nice mid-summer day, and the sun is a brilliant, dark orange on the horizon. Derek feels a jealous tug as he sees Stiles' arms around the strawberry-blondes waist, but he smothers the feelings once more. Lydia smacks Stiles' shoulder, screaming something about getting her hair wet and gross, weird lake water. Stiles just laughs too loudly, smiles too widely and tosses his head back in amusement, and again, Derek's chest erupts into traitorous, angry beats.

A sledgehammer hits Derek square in the ribcage, and the wolf beneath the surface of his skin laughs manically at his torment.

"Dude." Scott calls again, waving a hand in front of Derek's line of vision—but his thoughts are far away, thinking of Stiles' wide smile and plump, pale lips. "You kinda look, you know, constipated." Scott chuckles as Derek finally rips his vision away from Stiles and gives Scott an almost disbelieving look.

"I—what?" Derek growls, turning his eyes back towards his feet. He can feel the heat spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, and as much as he tries to repress the crimson spread, it doesn't stop the embarrassment of Scott already knowing his stupid little secret.

"You've been acting strange lately." Scott's beating around the bushes again, teasing Derek, even though he has no right now. "I was just wondering if mister_ all-mighty Alpha_ is gunna make it through this little crush he's got on my bestie out there." Scott smiles tauntingly, his tone condescending, his lips a fine line with repressed laughter as he nods his chin towards the lake, and of course, Stiles.

The grin on the teenagers face is nearly priceless, and Derek runs a hand through his dark, dark hair as he tried to ignore Scott's presence. Stiles laughs at something Lydia says, and the sledgehammer hit Derek square in the ribs again, causing his heartbeat to skip and sputter for a moment too long before following a knowing rhythm once more. He winces; the wolf howls longingly; Scott grins.

"I knew it!" Scott all but screams. Stiles, Lydia, Erica and the rest of the pack turn to look over at the pair and Derek turns to give Scott the glare of his life. Scott raises his hands apologetically in his defense, and hisses lowly; "I fucking knew it!" with a victorious sneer plastered across his face and a finger pointed straight at Derek's chest. He fist pumps the air in excitement and then turns his attention back towards the Alpha. "Well, you know—"

"Shut up, Scott." Derek seethes through clenched teeth. "Just—shut up." The wolf's steady hum of a growl almost sounds like a taunting laugh, and Derek wishes it would stop teasing him about this. It almost feels like the wolf likes the fact that Derek suddenly feels such a strong draw to the little-boy-genius.

But that doesn't stop Derek from wanting Stiles—wanting every minute of those jumbled sentences, every brilliant scheming plans, every laugh, every smile, every second of those pouty, pale lips.

"You should tell him." Scott tries again when he realizes Derek's thoughts are far away.

"No." Derek speaks so quickly that Scott wonders if he even considers his statement at all.

Scott pauses for a moment in all seriousness and sighs. "No, I mean really. You'd be surprised at—"

But Derek is walking away now, his hands shoved so far down into his pockets that his fingers are crammed and his knuckles are bunching up against his outer thighs in an almost painful position.

Derek walks off into the forest and disappearing amongst the tall, tall trees and the slowly darkening skies.

Scott sighs and goes to fetch Stiles before the sun sets, and besides, they all still have to set up their tents anyways.

* * *

"Hey Derek!" Stiles calls worriedly.

The Alpha had vanished into the woods without telling anyone, or so Scott says. Stiles figures it's probably to mope. Scott begged Stiles to go find him, so he could spend time with Allison, and the rest of the pack could spend time with their girlfriend/boyfriend.

_That was kinda shitty,_ Stiles thinks bitterly, _way to point out that I'm the only single person here, Scott. Dickweed._ He rolls his eyes, calling for Derek once more, and yet again, the sourwolf says nothing back.

"Where the hell are you?" Stiles asks under his breath to no one in particular. He runs a hand over his face and sighs heavily. "Alright, whatever dude, fine, stay out here all night then." He goes to turn around and comes face to face with Derek's statuesque body and hard, defiant glare.

Stiles jumps back out of fear and Derek tries not to smirk at the display of terror and guilt reigning over the younger man's expression. Stiles straightens himself up and shakes his head, trying to play it off as if he'd never been terrified—never noticed how beautiful Derek's eyes really were, or how wonderful he smelled when he was so close.

"Your heart's beating fast." Derek deadpans, walking closer to the younger man.

Stiles holds his ground, puffing out his chest slightly and squaring his shoulders, "you ran off," he's trying really hard to ignore Derek's previous statement, "Scott sent me out to find you. I found you. I'm leaving now. Let's go, big bad wolf." Stiles teases with the hint of a smile as he turns to walk around Derek. But the Alpha grabs the boys' arm and spins him back around so they're face to face once more. His eyes flared red for a mere moment, and Stiles felt his heart skip a beat as his mouth went suddenly dry. Derek's skin was abnormally warm, even for his blossoming wolf form. It was like being grabbed by someone who'd just come off the surface of the sun, or someone being smothered by layer after layer of lava coming straight off a burning volcano.

"D-Derek?" Stiles stuttered, his muscles tensing automatically at the pressure being applied to his biceps.

But Derek isn't there anymore. It's the wolf, _his_ wolf, slowly emerging to consume and cloud Derek's mind and body. "I think you need to know something, Stiles Stilinski."

Stiles stills. Derek's fingertips had sharpened into claws, and they were digging into the skin at his elbows, and Derek's immensely warm chest is pressed against Stiles' breath bone, trapping his back against a thick tree trunk. His breath is moist against Stile's face, warm against his neck and chest and enticing in some animalistic way. The thick, black hair sprouting up his forearms and neck crawl up Derek's finely stubble jaw, and his teeth grow too large for his mouth and push and peak above his lips.

"W-what?" The boy asks breathlessly, a slight tremble erupting from his unwilling body.

"A secret Derek and I share."

The distorted voice calls to a memory hidden within Derek's mind, from where his thought are centered solely around Stiles—and he'd tried for so long to bury these feelings so deep, or had tries to at least. Until Derek's wolf emerged and pulled and tugged and gnawed at the edges and corners of these memories, these feelings, these thoughts—and brought them forward with such ease it was almost sickening.

"D-Derek, come on, man." Stiles tries to plead in a strong voice, but it falls on cleverly deaf ears.

Derek grips Stiles by the elbows tighter, pulling him forward and pressing his chiseled chest against the smaller man's boy until Stiles has a considerably harder time inhaling. Stiles can feel the muscles in Derek's shoulders rolling, like water tumbling over rounded, smooth river rocks. A soft hum vibrates between them with every single breath Derek takes, and Derek's breastbone rumbles in a sort of purring motion.

But Derek is fighting for control over his own body, trying to evade the wolf's persistence to _touch_ and _bite_ the boy mere inches away from those sharp, wolf-life teeth.

"Derek, dude, let go. You're hurting me." Stiles sputters, looking away from Derek's glowering red eyes to his bruising grip on Stiles' arms. Small, miniscule puncture marks begin to form at the sensitive skin inside his elbows, being rubbed raw with irritation and pressure.

The wolf gets a clean, full view of Stiles lovely pale neck when he turns his head, and it's mouth waters with lustful intentions. Derek is screaming within his own body, fighting to get the wolf back in its cage, fighting to regain control before he unintentionally hurts Stiles. The wolf is growling at the teenager and for just a moment, and something akin to horrifying fear flashes across the boys face.

_Do you see it, Derek?_ The wolf asks thickly, and it's growl vibrates within Derek's chest. _Do you see how much he cares for you?_ It hums with a laughter that sounds almost menacing, but Derek feels no malice—only pain. _It physically pains him to see you like this. Just wait, Derek. Just wait and see._

But then the wolf is sliding back into place, his grip on Stiles' arm loosens, and Derek gains control of his body once more. Stiles watches as the red bleeds out from Derek's eyes, gaining that pretty grey-green color within two or three confusing blinks.

"Derek?" He asks hesitantly, reaching up with a free hand to touch the roughness along the older man's jaw.

Derek pushes him away, staring at him with new eyes—eyes that are full of regret—and that's something Stiles has never really seen on Derek before. "I—" but Derek merely stumbles over his words, stepping back, mostly out of fear of the wolf coming back and claiming Stiles in way's Derek's not ready to handle. "I don't— I'm sorry—I didn't," but then Derek is turning away from Stiles, jogging away far too quickly, leaving the teenager very frightened, and very confused.

Stiles scratches the back of his head and rubs at the inside of his elbows. They're sore, and slightly red, and Stiles knows they'll be little painful bruises in the morning. He sighs heavily, looking towards the direction Derek ran longingly before he turns to opposite direction and heads back towards the lake.

He has to finish setting up his tent anyways, and if Derek comes back during the night, he's going to need somewhere to sleep anyways.

* * *

Days past without any unwelcomed incidents.

Though, Derek does receive a text from Scott that says; _'What the hell did you do to Stiles? He won't talk to anyone.'_

He chooses not to respond back to it.

Derek had left the little campout and the rest of his pack and ran back to the remains of the Hale house to sulk.

The wolf still hums eagerly under Derek's skin, waiting for the scent of Stiles to wafts back into the air. But Stiles' scent is everywhere in the house—it's everywhere in Beacon Hills. His skin crawls.

Maybe dreams of Stiles running around his house stark naked and hallucinations of the boy whispering in his ear at night are the reason he's waking up so sore lately. And dear God, if his muscles don't stop aching he's going to lose his fucking mind—literally.

So on one particularly cloudy day, Scott walks into Hale house while Derek reads a book on an oddly fashionable couch that is severely out of place in the burnt down ruins. Of course, there are claw marks all over it, with stuffing bleeding out in various places.

"What's that smell?" Scott asks, setting his bag down to the side. Allison walked in behind him, holding the door in place with her foot. She smiles softly, almost hesitantly and waves to Derek after an awkward moment.

Derek wants to ask why they're suddenly hanging out again, and if they're dating or not, but he decides against it without much thought. But Derek tries to be as gentlemanly of a host as he can be and looks over at the two of them from the couch, massaging his oddly sore pecks. Allison gives him an odd look, cocking her head to the side as she watches him grope at his pectorals. Derek stiffens; you know what, scratch that, he's not up for chivalry at the moment.

"What smell?" He barely manages to grumble out nicely, thinking maybe his senses are dulled or disrupted by the remaining smells of smoke within the burnt wood of his family's house.

Scott walks towards Derek curiously, sniffing the air in the house. He follows the scent towards Derek and stops, looking around curiously. He sniffs the air around the strangely still Alpha and backs away quickly, holding his hand over his mouth and nose and making an unpleasant sound in the back of his throat. "My God, Derek!" He screeches, running behind Allison as if she could deter the scent. She gives him a questionable look, and Scott just looks pained and plugs his nose, burying his face in her long, wavy, ebony hair and breathing in the scent of her vanilla-y shampoo. "What have you been rolling in?!"

Derek looks at him and stops rubbing his breast muscles, a brow cocked with questions. "What do I smell like? I don't smell anything." He glares at the first two teenagers when Stiles walks in behind Scott and Allison. The girl turns to smile at him and moves her foot as he closes the door quietly. He takes in the scene unfolding before him and sighs heavily, dropping his bags and rubbing his forehead.

"Jesus, what's happening now? Come on guys, can't we just have one day off, I mean really, it's the beginning of summer, we've only been out of school for like, a week, tops. Just, just give me another week of peace and we can get back into the swing of kicking ass. Just one week guys, one week, that's all I'm aski—"

"You smell like a bitch, Derek." Scott pulls his head away from Allison's sweet smelling hair, keeps his nose plugged and grimaces like the scent could wound him physically.

"Whoa. Okay." Stiles blinks unknowingly as he sucks in a sharp breath and looks between the two werewolves.

Derek drops the book he'd been reading in his hand and glares pointedly, his jaw flexing with anger. "What did you—"

"No, as in, you smell like a female dog, you know, in _heat._" Scott says awkwardly as he unplugs his nose and sniffs the air again, cringes and plugs his nose once more. "I can almost taste you on my tongue, like, in the air." Then Scott realizes something and stares at Stiles then back at Derek. "Is that why you—" but Scott doesn't finish his sentence, staring at Derek with an almost pained expression.

"Do male werewolves even go into heat? Is that a thing? Like, is that possible?" Stiles asks, almost dumbfounded. He's turns and gently rummages through his backpack down on the ground before pulling out his laptop—as if this would be something that you could actually read about on the internet.

But, then, something jars Derek's memory, something about his father and his mother, and his older brother, and then, finally, Peter. "Oh, God." Derek rubs his forehead as he feels a sudden migraine coming on and his stomach turns. "No, no this can't be happening." Derek digs for his phone in his pocket, pulling it out and dialing a number on speed dial. It picks up after two rings.

_Derek, how good to hear from you—_

"Do Alpha's go into heat?" Derek asks quickly.

Peter is stunned on the other line, then bursts into a quick, loud fit of laughter that can even be heard across the room, causing Stiles to pause and turn around. He knows that laugh and physically stiffens when he hears it. Derek squirms when the boys' eyes fall on his.

_Yes, Derek, yes they can._ Derek can feel Peter grinning on the other end of the phone. _Would you like me to come over and explain?_

Derek growls lowly into the phone and Stiles puts his computer away, standing and leaning against the banister of the staircase with a question hanging in his brow. He doesn't look happy, and it physically makes Derek ill to have the boy look at him like he'd just kicked the boy's puppy square in the face.

"Yeah." Derek says quickly before hanging up.

Scott gives Derek a knowing smile before glancing over once more at a slightly confused Stiles. The boy flails, throwing his arms in the air. "Great." He mutters venomously under his breath, "just great. More fucking werewolves." He shakes his head and breaths slowly—inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth—that's what his father always taught him, right? That helps quiet the panic attacks.

Derek can taste the quickening of Stiles' heartbeat in the air, and it makes his faint migraine blossom slowly.

"How would you know what _that_ even smells like?" Stiles asked, gesturing to, well, all of Derek. Perhaps its another weird, werewolfe-y thing.

Scott gives him a shocked look, then laughs, and it grates against Derek's ears like nails on a chalkboard. "Dude, I work in a vet's office. Ring any bells?"

Something clicks in Stiles' brain and it's read easily across his expression. He laughs lightheartedly, and turns to look at Derek. His laughing dies down when he sees the pained expression on the Alpha's face. "So, like, when's Peter gunna be here?"

Derek feels the faint tingling of sore muscles pinpricking at his skin and he wants to just curl up in a ball and sleep for hours and hours. "Soon." He says.

* * *

"Yep, you're definitely in heat. I can smell you from down the road." Peter busts into the Hale house without so much as a knock or a hello and walks straight up to Derek with a shit-eating grin plastered across his carefree face.

Derek groans something awful and rubs his hands against his face in something close to desperation, and Stiles can't help but laugh as loud as he possibly can. "This is great. Really. This is _so_ awesome," he looks to Scott and the other teenage boy can't even find words to express himself. Typical Scott.

"How did you get here so fast?" Allison asks hesitantly. She's standing behind Scott, across the room, but only because he refuses to let her go any closer to Peter than that.

Peter turns towards her slowly, cocking his head in a way that's either hungry or interested. "Well, actually, I was in the next town over. Doesn't take long to sprint over here and—Stiles! Dear me," Peter says gently, lovingly, "how good it is to see you again." Stiles grows stiff, looking from Derek to Peter to Scott. "Still wanting to remain human, boy?" The past Alpha's brow arches in question and his lips grow into a faint, fine line.

Suddenly, Peter bursts into laughter and has somehow teleported to Stile's side and clasped him on the shoulder. Stiles jumps nervously and sputters, Scott stalks forward but Derek beat him to it. He grabs Peter by the shoulders and hoists him into the air, his eyes growing a venomous shade of red. "Just tell me about my _situation._"

Peter doesn't look amused in the slightest, but his lips are pulled back into a coy smile. "Fine, fine." He sighs. Derek slowly lowers him till his toes are barely gracing the surface of the burnt wood. He stands between the past Alpha and Stiles, and Peter picks up the over-protectiveness and chuckles. He swats a hand over his suit top, straightening the crinkles Derek's massive hands created.

"Every Alpha goes through a series of what we refer to as _'heats'_ until they meet their mates. Each heat lasts about two weeks but you'll see, it can be very catastrophic." He smirks and Stiles looks like he's about to run out the door. "You remember your older brother, when he went through his heat? Nearly took half the forest with him when he got angry." Derek flinches, Peter continues. "You'll experience emotional trauma, migraines, muscles soreness, temperature fluctuations—"

"You're saying Derek will basically be, what, PSMing?" Allison looks at each of the boys and scoffs. "For two weeks?" She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

Peter shrugs as he heads back to the burnt down remains of a door. "I believe I've over stayed my welcome." He looks straight at Stiles for a moment before flashing a devilish smile. "I'd advice you to stay inside for fourteen to twenty one days, Derek." Peter says nonchalantly, opening and closing the door behind him.

He's gone before anyone can stop him.

Derek looks at the three teenagers dumbfounded, his mouth opening and closing before he realizes how much he must look like a fish out of water and he stands completely still.

"I liked him better when he was dead." Stiles says softly form behind Derek, and Derek can't agree more.


	2. Close

**The Wild Ones  
**_So Close_

**_"Anger is what we know best, we know it, we cut our teeth on it."  
_**_-Audre Lorde_

* * *

On the sixth day, God created wolves.

Not really.

Stiles doesn't know what day God created wolves, but he knows God must have fudged up really bad when he accidently mixed humans and wolves together in one big mixing pot. In fact, Stiles is pretty sure God should have thrown that pot out before he dropped them onto Earth. But then again, Stiles never would have met Scott, or, well, Derek, if that had happened.

Stiles doesn't know if he could have dealt with that kind of life. Normal and boring and werewolf-less—madness, that would be.

But Stiles doesn't even think there is a God anymore.

At least, not one this cruel. Not one that would allow other people to throw themselves at the feet of the person you love and force you to watch it all happen.

* * *

Oh shit. Did he mean_ love_?

… Well, fuck.

* * *

The day passes without notice. The sixth day Derek's body temp skyrockets and the Alpha feels physically sick to his stomach and sweaty and clammy; feverish, to say the least. Lydia pats him on the shoulder, trying her best to be comforting, and offers him a cold, wet washcloth to put over his forehead.

He takes it, giving a small grunt of thanks.

On day seven, Derek is too embarrassed to talk about his situation anymore. He's humiliated that the pack keeps bringing it up and he can't stop thinking about sex, and Stiles, and a musky, heavy atmosphere filled with groaning and needs that can't quite be quenched or silenced.

He avoids everyone and naps on the burnt remains of a couch, his muscles tight and sore and worn out. He remains quiet while Stiles and the others—Scott, Allison, Lydia, Jackson, Boyd, Erica and Isaac—try to formulate a plan.

Scott brings up the thought that maybe werewolves go through the same type of heat as any ordinary female dog does—males from all around come to try and mate with her. Stiles gives him a pointed look at Scott huffs.

"Calling Deaton, hold on." Scott finally says after an hour of fighting between every member of the pack—Jackson being the biggest dick of them all.

_'Protect the Alpha,'_ Boyd had said previously. Stiles stiffened. This was the tenth time it had repeated in his head. Of course he would protect Derek—and if he couldn't, well…

But it is as Scott feared—as the pack feared. Deaton confirms with an edge to his voice that isn't normally there; "yes, Scott. You should have seen Laura when she went through her last heat, before her untimely demise." His voice is gentle, and Scott grimaces when he sees Derek bow his head—he knows the Alpha can hear the conversation from the other room. "Laura fought off males for weeks, coming to me for quicker healing remedies because her body couldn't supply enough energy to heal her fast enough before another werewolf came to try and claim her." Deaton sighs into the phone and everyone in the room can hear the worry in his voice when he says; "be careful, Scott." He lastly adds; "all of you."

They hang up.

Isaac groans, scrubbing his face. "So, more werewolves then?" He leans into Stiles and the boy doesn't retreat when Stiles runs a hand through his hair. He leans his head against Stiles' shoulder and sighs unhappily.

Lydia sighs. "So it would seem."

Stiles rubs his head and turns to look at the Alpha. "Do we move him somewhere safer?" He asks the group. "My house? Scott's right down the street, Boyd and Erica live close, too."

Erica shakes her head. "If he's like a bitch—no offense, Derek—then it doesn't matter where we move him, the other werewolves will always find him. Besides, didn't you say Peter said to keep him inside for what, two, three weeks?"

"Yep. So what, keep him here, in this burnt down wreckage and let them come?" Boyd shakes his head. "No. Absolutely not. We're moving him. The Hale house is only so safe before it becomes a straight up hazard."

"Where then?!" Scott asks, his fists tight and white knuckled. The irritation in his voice is worse than a rash, and it grates against Stiles' skin. "Where can we move him? What if other Alpha packs come and it's worse than last time?! I'm not doing that again."

Everyone stays silent for a long time, looking from each other with such uncertainty it becomes chilling and Stiles' throat feels thick and dry. Isaac shifts besides Stiles', never lifting his head away from the human's shoulder. He sniffs at Stiles', remarking about how he still smells like lake water with a soft chuckle.

Stiles' bats him away, but Isaac mostly just laughs then leans into Stiles more. Scott grumbles something about '_my human_,' but Allison tugs at his hair and laughs.

"Has anyone even asked Derek what he wants to do…?" Stiles asks suddenly, his voice rough.

Scott looks towards the ground and Allison just sighs, stroking her boyfriend's head with a grimace.

"I mean, really, what if this is something he wants, like, you know, to find a _mate_?" Stiles can taste the bitterness on his tongue at the question. The air tastes like tin and pennies and Stiles wants nothing more than to look at Derek and ask him, but suddenly he feels too ashamed to even be in his presence.

Isaac whines softly against his ear, and Stiles' wonders why.

Derek finally stands up from where he was sitting, hiding in the shadows, and walks over to the group. The wolf within him whines softly, his heart fluttering viciously against his ribcage like a caged canary—but Derek bats him back angrily. He looks livid and Stiles shies away from him like a wounded animal; Isaac on his heels and Scott standing protectively near by. Derek tries not to notice as he keeps his gaze hard on his pack. His nostrils flair and his lips are a thin line as he speaks. "I'm the Alpha here, I don't know why you all are here trying to make decisions for _me_, so I'll say this once, so listen close and listen hard." His jaw clenches as he feels Stiles' eyes on him and he has to refrain from taking the boy in his grasp and pushing the other two Beta's away, holding his—no, not his—human close and rubbing his scent all over the boy. Stiles always smells too much like Scott, and it annoys Derek. "I'll stay at Stiles' house until my—" the Alpha frowns, "—my _situation_ is cleared up."

Stiles flails. "Good God, like I hadn't suggested that oh, I don't know, five minutes ago?! Why doesn't anyone listen to me until I have concrete evidence and I've researched it all the way through and just so you know, you all officially suck for once again dumping this crap on me—"

"Shut up, Stiles. Don't act like you don't want him there." Lydia smiles coyly from beside the teenaged boy. Jackson huffs and rolls his eyes.

Stiles is about to respond with something witty when—

"Shut up." Boyd growls low.

Erica perks up, glaring out at the open front door to the line of trees at the forest. Isaac lifts his head away from Stiles' shoulder, a growl caught deep in his throat that rises up and vibrates his chest and makes Stiles' human heart stutter for a moment.

The atmosphere turns cold and thick again, hovering above cautious and spilling into dangerous territories. Boyd's eyes become shades of ember and yellow, and his lips turn up in mid-snarl. Erica picks up the sound of a foreign heartbeat outside the house, then another, and an even fainter one farther off, and before Lydia can protest, Erica is clasping a clawed hand over the genius girl's mouth.

The wolves start in on the night of day seven.

Derek turns to look out the open door with brilliant red eyes and a growl pursed on his curled lips. Three pairs of glowing, yellow eyes shine in the moonlight back at him, lining the trees of the forest in a cluster of curious forms. Stiles tenses beside Derek, grabbing blindly for Lydia's arm and pulling her behind him slowly as they disappear into the darkness of the house.

Isaac and Boyd are the first ones out the door, followed closely by Scott and Derek. Jackson stays close to the porch of the house, hovering near the door—protecting Lydia from any harm. Allison heads for her bag and grabs her bow out and a few extra arrows, standing in front of where Stiles and Lydia had vanished.

Stiles grabs the bat he and Deacon made and prepares for a fight.

* * *

"Stop!" Stiles screams, running past Jackson before the jock has a chance to grab him.

The werewolves stop in the middle of the field before they reach the line of trees and turn towards the human boy, stunned. The new wolves at the tree line gather into a tight circle and whimper, frightened.

"Look!" Stiles points towards the small, still wolves. "They're just kids!" He cries, "they're babies." He says in a voice just above a whisper. He lowers his hand and slowly walks towards the group of new wolves.

Derek shifts back into his human form quickly, staring out at the field with new eyes. Slowly, uncertainly, the biggest of the smallest trio stalks forward with its head bowed as if he were ashamed—or in trouble. Stiles runs out to meet the boy before the others can get to them—but he keeps his bat tightly gripped; just in case.

The pack shifts back into their human forms, following Derek, and then everyone realizes why Stiles had stopped them. The three small invaders couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen—Derek feels a small pang in his chest for the small wolves; he was once their age.

The three boys are shaking and looking from their feet to Stiles right in front of them. "W-we smelled something on the wind. We couldn't help ourselves." The oldest cringes as Derek walks up to him and stands besides Stiles. He can smell Derek, he can smell Derek from far away, and his mouth waters.

"We didn't know there was another pack here. We didn't know what we were following. We're sorry!" The youngest cries, pulling as his oldest brothers sleeves.

Stiles smiles, "hey, it's okay." He pats the oldest brother's shoulders and tries to explain the situation to them—Derek's heat, werewolves being attracted to the scent, and honestly, it was okay and not to worry about it.

"Have you seen any others on your way here?" Derek asks coldly. His eyes still radiate Alpha, and the younger wolves stare back at him with fearful honey colored eyes.

"Yes," the middle brother answers softly. Derek looks to the silent boy and frowns. "A few others were heading this way. We ran here. Thought maybe," he looks to his feet with guilty eyes, "we thought it was a hunt. We wanted to get here first."

"How many?" Boyd asks. Erica comes closer with her hands on her hips. She has a soft spot for kids, and all she can do it smile sheepishly at the three young boys.

"Mostly Omega's." The smaller one pipes up, "no Alpha's so far. You're the only one we've seen." He beams up at Derek, and when he doesn't even get a smile back, he looks to his feet. "Some Beta's are closest, they're in smaller groups, three wolves, four at the most."

Derek stiffens, looking to Stiles with a snarl before he turns on his heels and stalks back to the burnt down house.

Stiles' hand tightens on the boys shoulder comfortingly. "Where do you live? Do you need a ride back?"

"No, no. We're okay. We'll run." The oldest says gently with a smile. He takes his younger brother by the elbow and turns him back around towards the forest. The oldest turns back when he feels his other brother not following. His eyes fall on the middle child coldly, almost demanding, and Stiles wonders what the relationship between them is like outside of their own little pack-life. "Jack, come on." He whispers, his eyes a beautiful shade of green and his voice prickly and icy; like brisk, morning air; cooling and refreshing—and hidden with lies.

But Jack watches Derek move away from him and his brothers, and his golden-honey eyes look almost hurt and vacant—as if he'd been hoping, just maybe, Derek would chose him...

* * *

A day or two passes before another group shows up. This time, outside of Stiles' house, fangs and claws draw on his front lawn at three in the morning—thank God for thunderstorms, Stiles thinks as a boom silences a longing howl. A scuffle ensues between the two Omega's, and Stiles grabs for his bat when Derek leaps through his window.

Derek roars at them with grueling blood-red eyes and they stop clawing at each other, sniffing the air around Derek curiously. Blood drips from their claws and fangs and mouths, with deep scratches line their faces and chests. Derek grimaces in disgust and Stiles stands at his window with his bat clutched in his grasp almost desperately. He really, _really_ hates Omega's.

"A _man_?" One of them whines, a thick accent and a foreign look in his crystal-blue eyes. He turns and runs away, as if his life depends on it—and the scent of blood follows him.

The other Omega looks sheepish, slowly shifting back into her human form, maintaining those beautiful blue eyes. "You're the one?" She sniffs again, smiling deviously—all teeth and lips pulled too thin over her gums. Her hair is honey colored and rests wildly down the length of her back, and it contrasts beautifully against her crystalline eyes. Stiles feels a tugging at the bottom of his heart—she's too beautiful, how could Derek resist her, even if she is a dangerous Omega?

Stiles' can see it playing out in his mind—she'd become part of the pack, part of Derek's pack, and Stiles would slowly fade away into the background. He shakes his head, he's getting too far ahead of himself—he's not allowed to have these feelings for Derek. Derek is a werewolf. Stiles is a human. His heart stutters and drops to his toes, followed closely by his stomach.

He stares out his window as the female Omega circles Derek like prey, her steps calculated and cautious as all wild Omega's are. Derek doesn't show the woman his back, following the werewolf's every movement.

"Leave." Derek commands, cruelly.

Stiles feels his heart sputter nervously as Derek turns his back on the Omega and heads back towards the house. Derek briefly looks up at him in the window and growls softly as his throat tightens. Stiles isn't even looking at him anymore, and his stomach drops.

"W-wait." The Omega calls, a hand outstretches towards Derek desperately. She bites her lip, but the wild, crazed look in her eye never fully vanishes.

"No. Leave."

The woman's eyes rage for a second, burning bright blue as she surges forward, but Derek growls deep in his throat—her one warning—and Stiles can hear the low vibrations from upstairs. It doesn't fully register with his brain as a sound, because he can physically feel the vibrations rather than hear them. He knows the sound is coming from Derek when he snarls viciously and the Omega flinches and steps back.

Derek waits for the feral woman to turn and leave before he walks back into Stiles' house and up to his room. Stiles listens as he climbs the stairs with heavy footsteps. He walks into the room and slams the door behind him and leans against it, sighing as he slides down to the floor and puts his head in his hands.

"How many days has it been?" He asks quietly, trying to get the boy to look at him. He only wants Stiles' eyes upon him.

Stiles doesn't reply. He closes and turns from the window to his desk, pulling headphones over his head and typing on his computer with a vacant expression. His pale skin glows against the contrasting blue light from the screen, and Derek can't help but catch his breath for a moment—and then he's thankful Stiles doesn't have heightened senses.

Thunder rolls outside as rain begins to pelt the window softly. Derek's muscles grow sore and he wants to walk over to Stiles and rub his scent all over him.

The teenager tries to drown out the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach with music he can't really understand at the moment—the thought that maybe, just maybe, Derek might find that one person he's always longed for in one of those lost souls wondering the woods in search of the Alpha hurts more than he thought it would.

"Stiles?" Derek calls softly, but he can hear the music in the teenagers headphones drowning out everything around him, even Derek's voice. The Alpha lowers his head and sighs. His stomach is still in his toes, and he can feel his heart skipping and breaking with a want and need for Stiles that wasn't there a few months ago—yet it blossomed anyways, consuming everything within Derek—consuming everything within his wolf's spirit. The creature hummed in agreement within Derek.

"I miss the way you used to look at me." Derek whispers, and closes his eyes as the music in Stiles' headphones and the soft rain beating against the house lull him into a deep sleep.

* * *

Hours pass.

Stiles' eyes burn from staring at the screen for too long without blinking. He rubs them furiously with his thumb and forefinger before he goes cross-eyed, turning the volume in his headphones down so he can think straight without the pounding in his head following the pounding of the bass.

He blinks towards his bed, realizing Derek is sprawled out across his floor and asleep at his feet. The teenager stands on weak knees and grabs his blanket and gently cascades the sheet over Derek's haphazard body. The man's brow bunches up momentarily in his sleep before smoothing out peacefully. He clutches at the corners of the fabric and sighs into the blanket. "_Stiles,_" he mutters softly, and for a moment, Stiles thinks Derek is awake.

"I was just making sure you don't get cold during the night. Don't get too excited." Stiles mutters grudgingly. When Derek makes no reply or lifts his head to glare, Stiles watches his back rise and fall evenly and sighs. Derek remains asleep.

On a selfish whim, Stiles grabs his pillow and drops it beside Derek and lies down so close to the Alpha he wonders if Derek ever realizes he's there beside him.

There is a moment there, where Stiles just stares at Derek's sleeping face. He memorizes the stress lines in his forehead, and the lines around his lips—laugh lines that slowly faded from his skin ages ago. He memorizes the sharp line of his nose and stubbled jaw, and the soft curve of his brow. He glances over the man's bottom lip, blushing as he imagines just how sweet the Alpha's lips most be compared to his bitter personality.

"You know, I never thought you'd ever be vulnerable to something like this—this heat thing you got yourself caught up in—it's just so unreal." Stiles watches Derek's face as he sleeps—he knows Derek won't respond, but it's nice to talk to him without the judgment hanging heavy over his head. "I guess that's why I wanted to protect you from it. That, and, well—" Stiles breath comes out staggered and hitched and rushes warm against Derek's face.

Derek stirs, his nose wrinkling slightly before his face smooth's out again. Stiles waits, silent and terrifying still, till Derek stops moving and shifting before he even considers continuing. "I wish things had been a little different. I wish you'd realized how much I… How much I," Stiles pauses, his whispers falling short of saying something Derek would deem important. Stiles lifts his hand hesitantly and brushes Derek's cheek ever so lightly, his thumb rubbing circles over the stubble at his jawline and down to the center of his chin. He hesitates, pulling his thumb back several times before deciding it's safe and begins tracing the curve of Derek's bottom lip lovingly. Stiles moves closer, inching his body so close to Derek's he can feel the older man's body heat radiating against his outer layer of clothing.

Stiles stares at Derek's face up close, watching as his eyes move behind his eyelids in his sleep. He hesitates for a moment as their noses just barely touch and Stiles' nuzzles closer till he can feel Derek's breath drifting over his lips. He watches Derek for any sign of waking before his eyes land on the Alpha's slightly parted lips once more. Derek's breath comes out slow and calming, his chest pushing against Stiles' breastbone gently. Stiles smiles as he tilts his head, his hand gripping at Derek's jaw just enough to be unnoticeable, and he can feel the distance between their mouths growing shorter and shorter and—

Stiles stops. He takes a moment to just breathe in the air Derek exhales. It washes warm against his face and neck, and it's minutes, maybe hours later when Stiles slowly pulls his hands and lips away from the sleeping Alpha. He clutches his hand to his chest and whimpers quietly. His stomach curls and turns and his heart beats feverishly against his chest, pounding and echoing in his head. "Nevermind." He sighs halfheartedly, his eyes never leaving those sleeping lips. "You'll find a mate, and you'll finally be happy, and that's all I can wish—that's all I can hope for—" He gulps, ripping his eyes away from the Alpha's mouth as he smiles at the sleeping man; but something is broken inside Stiles, and it falls to the ground around Derek's head as he stands up and adds; "—for you."

He walks over to his bed and lays down, curling his body into a ball around his pillow to suppress the tightness of his pants and completely forgetting to take off his shoes. He reaches over and shuts off his lamp, closing his eyes tight. Rain pelts the window harder, casting shadows all over the darkness and all Stiles wants is to forget about the way Derek's lips felt under his thumb.

Derek's eye open with a deep roll of thunder.

* * *

The next morning passes quietly. Derek and Stiles don't speak till the afternoon, and it's only to rush Derek upstairs as the Sheriff walks in after an early morning shift with a loaded weapon.

"Stiles." His father greets, scrubbing his son's head as he heads upstairs to his room. His eyes have heavy bags under them, and Stiles suddenly feels the need to stay home and take care of his father—but then Derek would stay locked up in his room all day and he doesn't want that just yet. He's pretty sure the Alpha would go crazy.

"What are you gunna do today, pops?" Stiles asks as he leans against the railing of the stairs. He misses the sound of his father's voice, and the way his dad sighs tugs at his heartstrings.

"Gunna nap. Heading back to the station around nine. Stay out of trouble, you hear?" His brow rises at his son, expecting an honest answer—he's still yet to receive one and he knows it.

Stiles smiles. "Yeah dad, I will." He lies.

The door to his father's bedroom closes behind him and Stiles feels heavy hearted. He runs a hand over his head and he can still feel his father's touch burning into his skin and he wants to cling to that.

He sighs, walking to his room and opening the door. Derek's sitting on his bed hunched over in thought, but he looks up when Stiles walks in. He closes the door and leans against it, looking at Derek with a warm eyes—Derek shudders, but tried not to make it obvious. The teenager tells Derek to go downstairs iwithout a sound/i and they'll be leaving for a few hours till the Sheriff goes back to work. The Alpha nods as he stands and grabs his ratty leather jacket and quietly steps down the stairs, walking on tip toes till he reaches the front door and walk out—it would have been easier to use the window, but Stiles tells him it was best not to hop form the window of his two story house in broad daylight, lest someone see. Stiles tells him he'll be out in a minute, so Derek waits.

As the Alpha turns around, Scott and Allison begin their walk up Stiles' drive way hand in hand. "Hey," Scott greets, nodding his head towards the Alpha with ease.

Derek grunts something like an acknowledgement back and Scott accepts it as a hello. But Derek is unusually sour today; holding a grimace that's deeper than it should be. Scott's brows furrow in annoyance. "What's wrong now?" He asks in an exaggerated voice.

Derek blinks at Scott as if the boy _didn't_ already know what was wrong and growls, looking between the boy and Allison. She blinks slowly, biting her lip. "Oh, boy talk. Gotcha." She says, walking behind Derek to the front door of Stiles' house and pushing it open. "I'll just uh, grab the boy and we can go." She walks inside quickly, eyeing Scott expectantly.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asks as the hunter closes the door. She leaves the door cracked, but vanishes inside the house in search of Stiles.

Scott smiles, knowing Derek is avoiding the subject and knows exactly why. "Stiles' texted us. Told us we had to move you for a while cause his dad got home, so we're making sure you make it back to the house safely, and besides," he gives a pointed look to the Alpha, a brow raised, "we need to talk. Obviously." He gestures to all of Derek and the Alpha slouches his shoulders in defeat.

The door opens and closes behind them softly. Derek spins around and Stiles and Allison stare at him. Stiles smiles coyly while Allison looks somewhat shocked and startled.

"What's there to talk about? I wanna know. Can I know? Allison, do you know? What are we talking about?" Stiles looks from Derek to Scott, not understanding what's happening exactly. Scott whines and grabs Stiles by the sleeve of his hoodie, dragging him into a bear hug and nuzzling his shoulder and the side of his neck.

Stiles giggles, hugging the other boy back. "I like the fact that you turned into a gigantic puppy once you were turned." Stiles mutters as Scott rubs his face against Stiles' cheek.

Derek growls and Scott stiffens, slowly edging away. Stiles frowns and Allison giggles.

"What took you so long?" Derek asks gruffly.

Stiles' frown deepens. Derek should know this by now. "I made my dad lunch? Can't have him eating fast food when he gets up from his nap. Unhealthy business, that is. You know that. You all know that."

Derek is about to respond when Allison laughs and takes Stiles by the arm and pulls him forward, walking a good ten steps ahead of the two werewolves and out of ear-shot—she know, Derek figures. They reach the end of the driveway before Scott starts in on Derek.

"Did you do it?" The boy asks, excited.

Derek makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a dying animal and Stiles' turns to see if he's okay, worry lacing his brow. Allison drags him along, tugging at his sleeves as the walk forward. She laughs as he pouts and flails energetically. "But I wanna know, too!" He whines. Allison ignores him.

"I take that as a no." Scott sighs heavily as they start walking down the driveway. "You know Derek," he starts, scratching the back of his head hesitantly, "if you like him so much, why don't you just try talking to him about it?" Scott speaks softly beside the Alpha, looking to his feet—he's hiding something and—oh. Derek growls, rubbing his eyes in frustration. He now realizes Scott has been trying to tell him all along that Stiles has had feelings for him.

"How long?" Derek asks, strained, "How long have you known that he—?" His throat feels thick and dry-mouthed.

Scott shrugs, thrusting his hands deep in his pockets as he fiddles with his vibrating phone. _Does he know?_ Allison texts. He looks up and sees Allison throwing his a glance over her shoulder as Stiles talks her ear off.

Scott smiles smugly up at the Alpha—but not his Alpha. "Couple of months."

"_Months?!"_ Derek groans, partially do to some lingering muscles soreness and partially due to pure shock.

Scott nods, shoving his hands back in his pockets after replying_ Yep, now he does_, to Allison. "I can tell you, I've been Stiles' friend all his life. No one has really, like, given Stiles the time of day. He's really dense sometimes. I mean, for a smart kid and all," he looks to Derek and beams up at him, smiling from ear to ear, "the rest of us know how you feel about him, but he doesn't. He probably doesn't even know you like him back." Scott shrugs when Derek doesn't respond, yet continues to stare angrily at the ground at their feet. "Lydia gave him half a chance, but she was still in love with Jackson—always will be. You, well, you're you. Stiles likes you. Go for it." Scott encourages, but Derek makes no notion to his advances and Scott sighs.

They walk in silence for a long time, Derek staring ahead at Stiles and Allison while Scott stares at his feet. Scott tries to change the subject. "Deaton says you're doing remarkably well for this being your first heat and all." Derek looks at Scott and waits for him to continue. "He says the reason a ton of numbers haven't shown up is due to the fact that we have a small reputation of well, killing everything. Only the stupid ones are coming." Scott chuckles at that, laughing inwardly. "Lucky for Stiles."

Derek growls at him. "I didn't ask for this."

Scott gives him a pointed look, a question hanging loosely on his lips. "When did you realize you had feelings for him, then?"

Derek stiffens, his pace slowing down. His spine felt like it was trying to crawl out his skin, and the hair on his arm stood straight up; catching every cold molecule it could to chill him to the bone. Hadn't he asked himself that several times over? Yes, of course he had, and he can still remember the day it blossomed deep in his chest and choked off his airway like a sledgehammer to the chest. "It was a while ago. I told Stiles to leave, to never come back, that he wasn't part of the pack—"

"I remember." Scott interjects, and he winces, because the memory physically makes him hurt. He would have followed Stiles without question, but still, the pain on Stiles' face made him ill.

"—yeah, well, he kept coming back. He kept fighting to be involved in the pack, and I liked that determination in him. Then I realized it wasn't determination that I liked about him, it was his hands. I liked his hands, Scott. Then it was his lips, then his eyes," Derek paused, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He pushes it back when Scott gives him another pointed look, "when I fell in love with his eyes, I fell in love with the rest of him."

Scott trips over his feet, catching himself at the last second with a stunned gasp. "Whoa wait, love?" Scott stops walking and grabs Derek's sleeve. "Love? Stiles? You love Stiles?" His voice reaches a different octave and his breath hitches.

Derek looks startled, then shrinks away from Scott like a burning furnace. "No. That's not what I meant!" He tries to deny everything, but his voice breaks and it sounds more like a whimper than anything with conviction.

Scott scoffs. "You love Stiles," he says in a breath. "This changes everything." His lips tug upwards in a smile and he pats Derek on the shoulder before walking ahead, giving the Alpha the space he needs to breathe and sort out his _dilemma_.

Derek scrubs his face and sighs into his hands. He couldn't think of anything to say, and when he pulls his hands away, all he can see is Stiles staring back at him from twenty feet away, a worried expression painted across his face. Derek can't deny his feeling towards the teenager, but it's just _that_; Stiles is a _teenager._

"Yeah," he says absently, "yeah, it does."

* * *

**AN: Third chapter should be up soon~**


	3. Fearless

**The Wild Ones**  
_So Fearless_

**_"I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."_**  
_-Galileo Galilei_

* * *

Erica and Boyd met the group at the edge of the woods. Allison drags Stiles further on while Scott and Derek lag behind, ever silent. Erica gives Boyd a knowing smile and the ebony boy snorts his acknowledgement and shakes his head with a smirk that radiates excellence. "Perfect," he mutters under his breath. His girlfriend giggles. Derek groans a _"shut up"_ under his breath—because he knows they know, and they know he know they know—right?

"Where's Lydia?" Stiles asks once the group is semi-gathered. Lydia and Jackson are missing—and not that Jackson is important to the group's movement or anything, but Stiles will always harbor a special place in his heart for Lydia—and when she's missing from the group, it doesn't feel quite as whole anymore.

Isaac cozies on up to Stiles' side, looping his arm around Stiles' arm and leaning his weight into the human boy. Stiles doesn't complain, only rolls his eyes as the werewolf tucks his chin in the crook of his neck and breathes. "Are we not enough for you, Stiles?" Isaac playfully tugs at the red hood of the boy's hoodie—"pack puppies," Stiles calls the pack, with all their puppy-like tendencies.

Stiles bats him away spiritedly. "Never said that. She's just the only person I can have an intellectual conversation with."

Derek scoffs and rolls his eyes from the rear of the group.

"Yeah, okay, use your big words when you get to see her then." Isaac rolls his eyes but never leaves the boys' side. Allison clings to his other arm and Stiles feels more at home than he probably should between a hunter and a werewolf.

"She and Jackson are already at the house. They're waiting for us." Erica pipes up, finally giving the human his answer. Her hands are laced together with Boyd's, and he's smiling at the blonde. She smiles back with a big, bright show of all teeth and love, and Stiles wishes for once, Derek would smile at him like that. But no, Stiles shakes his head absentmindedly, he can't think like that anymore. Derek will find his soul mate within the next week, and Stiles will be pushed to the back of the pack. '_Silly human_,' someone will taunt, '_to think you could capture an Alpha's heart._' And suddenly Stiles feels like he's drowning again; holding Derek up in that swimming pool back at the school, yet drowning all the same.

Stiles wants to laugh bitterly as his heart sinks, but he keeps it to himself by biting the inside of his cheek. He feels his heart shattering within his ribcage, breaking apart with ever stroke and falling into his abdomen like broken glass shards.

Stiles smiles weakly as he pushes the thoughts away and the group falls into a comforting silence—but Derek can smell that something is wrong with Stiles even if the boy makes no notion to acknowledge it.

The boy distracts himself with the thought of the weather as he exhales shakily—Allison gives him a worried glance, but he brushes it off. The sunlight feels wonderful during the summer, and perhaps it wasn't the right time to wear a jacket, but the chilling breeze that gets kicked up every few minutes made it a proper time to wear the tattered red hoodie regardless. The light grey clouds scattered in the sky promises another storm like the night before, but Stiles wasn't really worried—not really.

A breeze flowered across the group. The wolves stilled.

* * *

"Stiles, watch out!"

Isaac throws Allison and Stiles to the ground as a fully transformed Alpha springs at them from a fallen tree trunk, a roar ripping deep from its throat as it tackles Isaac to the ground, bouncing the Betas skull against a pointed rock and pressing finely sharpened claws into his throat and jaw. Isaac is unconscious before Stiles can get a proper breath in.

Derek is on the Alpha in a second, fully transformed in mid air and pushing the foreign wolf off Isaac's bleeding neck and head, tumbling and twisting and clawing in unison with fierce guttural snarls echoing from trunk to trunk and bursting from tree tops into the wide open Californian atmosphere.

Boyd and Erica wolf-out next, springing in on Derek's opponent—only to be attacked from the side by another Alpha. Erica yelps as one or two of her ribs give way with a sharp crack that makes Allison wince—but this only enrages Boyd more. He grabs the new Alpha by its head and slashes across its throat, snarling vehemently. Erica pushes through her pain, springing onto the Alpha's back and sinking her teeth into its shoulder and ripping away at flesh and coarse, dark fur. The horrendous snarl that proceeds comes from one of the wolves, but Stiles isn't sure anymore.

Stiles grabs hold of Allison's arm and hauls her up to her feet while Scott stands protectively in front of them, growling and looking from his two humans to the pack; not sure what to do—protect or fight? Stiles nods towards Derek and screams; "Go Scott!"

And he does, running in on all fours to tackle the Alpha before it has a chance to pin Derek to the ground and rip out their pack leaders insides. Stiles tries to remind himself to breathe as he realizes just how much smaller Derek is compared to these two new Alpha's; and he suddenly has a sinking feeling that they might not make it out whole this time. He bites his lip and brings Allison in closer, pushing her behind him—at least he can try to save her.

Allison looks to Stiles with horrified eyes, and he knows exactly what she's thinking. His heart beat pounds furiously in his ears and it's almost deafening. "I didn't bring my fucking bow!" She hisses, and Stiles can tell Allison wants to scream just as much as he does—because he's a fucking idiot and didn't bring his bat, either.

Derek snarls, racking his claws across his rival's chest and earning him a sharp blow to the ribcage from his opponent, sending him flying back about five feet. Derek yelps, red eyes blinking green for a second before bleeding back into their brilliant crimson. Scott goes after the Alpha, claws and fangs bared with quick, agile swipes of his claws. Derek jumps back into the fight after a moment and rips away at the rival Alpha's ankles, bringing it to the ground after a sliced Achilles heel renders the creature weaker—but only slightly.

Stiles can't breathe. His lungs suddenly feel like they just won't expand to allow airflow properly and he wants to hyperventilate but Allison is looking at him with pleading eyes and something close to panic and he doesn't know what to do or say—

_"Breathe, breathe—come on Stiles, just breathe through it baby, it's okay, mommy's here with you."_

"What—" Stiles looks down at Allison in surprise and shock—he swears she sounded just like his mother for a second—but she tells him once more; "Breathe, Stiles, I can't have you passing out on me right now." And he does, sucking in as much air as he can before his lungs scream and burn from over-expansion.

Erica get's the upper hand on her opponent, and Boyd grabs hold of its ankles and brings it to the ground. The Alpha shakes the two Betas' off and roars tirelessly.

Derek goes for the throat of his opponent, but it reaches out and slices its vicious claws across Derek's stomach before Stiles can finish exhaling. The sickening wet sound of sliced flesh reaches Stiles' ears and he wants to run to Derek side, but Allison holds him back. Blood spills forth in torrents of crimson from the wound across Derek's abdomen and he staggers for a moment, looking up at Stiles with pained, vacant eyes, and Stiles screams till his lungs burn and ache.

* * *

The two foreign Alpha's stop their assault on the pack for just a moment, sniffing the air eagerly, looking at the human boy in the red hoodie with the hunter girl beside him—they growl lowly, a snarl cut from deep within their chests. Derek sees his chance and grabs hold of his opponent's neck with his teeth and twists it too far to the right. A sickening crack echoes as the foreign Alpha's body grows limp and falls beside wolfed-out Derek; lifeless and putrid. Derek drives his heel into the back of the creatures' neck and rips the head from off its shoulders as the other Alpha whimpers.

Erica and Boyd grab hold of the second rival Alpha once more, dragging it to the ground and pinning it to the floor as Scott climbs on top of it and grabs hold of its head. He jerks the creatures' chin up, about to rip its head free, but Derek stops him.

"Why?" Derek's voice is rough and course and grates against Stiles' ears unpleasantly. Derek only partially transforms back to his human form; claws and fangs and red eyes remain, with tuffs of coarse black hair over his unnaturally large arms, shoulders, back and both sides of his face. He's holding his stomach together with one sharply clawed hand, and Stiles wants to scream again.

Allison hushes him softly, her hands on either side of his face and forcing him to look her straight in the eyes as she tries to get him to breathe normally.

He doesn't realize he's hiccupping till Allison points it out. "Come on Stiles, just breathe, I'm here, everything's going to be alright."

"Tell me now!" Derek roars. Scott loosens his grip on the Alpha's head just slightly so it can talk.

The rival Alpha hums deviously as it reverts back into its human form, stark naked and pinned to the forest floor by three very angry Betas; covered in blood and dirt and crimson claws. A woman, Stiles realizes, and her humming turns into a strange, strangled cackle of sorts.

"Why?" she snickers, "because there's an Alpha right in front of me in its first heat, that's _why_." Her bloody, split lip drips crimson to the earth and Boyd snarls as his claws dig into her shoulder muscles. She hisses and jerks, but Boyd only snarls dangerously close to the side of her neck.

"Sean and I wanted to kill your pack and drag you back with us." She says so simply that Stiles catches his breath again—'_breathe'_ Allison whispers, and he swears she sounds like his mother on her deathbed.

Stiles blinks, sucking in a staggering amount of air, wondering if the female Alpha is being serious or just blatantly cruel—either way, she's clearly unbalanced. His eyes fall on the unconscious Isaac at their feet and he crouches to his knees despite Allison's best intentions to keep him upright. He crawls over to the blonde Beta and cradles the boys' head in his hands and lap, stroking the bloodied hair away from his wounds and checking to see if anything needs to be pulled out before it can heal properly.

Derek looks over at Stiles as the boys deafening heartbeat finally calms down, and when the boy looks up to meet his gaze, it's softer than he remembers—almost relieved. Isaac opens his eyes slowly and Derek breathes reluctantly. The Beta turns his head into Stiles' stomach and makes a sound. "Ugh," he moans. Stiles smiles wearily, watching as the skin of Isaac's throat and forehead slowly knit back together. "I hate the taste of my own blood." Isaac complains softly. Stiles smiles and nods, though he doesn't exactly know what to respond with.

Derek turns back to the naked female Alpha, who's smiling up at him knowingly. "Ahh, so it is the human." Her eyes glisten and Derek feels a tingle of terror run down his spine. "I could hear your heart skip when you looked at him. He smells of you. Your mate, I presume?" The Alpha sneers and Derek growls at her. Stiles looks up, surprised and flushes an alarmingly dark shade of crimson—this is not the time or place for this, he reminds himself angrily.

Erica pressed her knee into the woman's back and the Alpha snarls, eyes raging brilliant red and furious. She doesn't fight Scott's hold on her jaw and hair, or Erica and Boyd holding her down, but when Derek kneels in front of her, she grows strangely still—as if _she_ is the one who is truly terrified.

"I should rip your pack apart," she seethes through clenched teeth, though she knows she can't win now, "and kill your mate for what you did to my Sean, you little _mutt_." Saliva and blood drips from her bottom lip in a viscous mixture. Scotts' hold on her jaw becomes abruptly violent and she chocks and wheezes before Derek puts a hand on the boys hold and forces him to calm down.

"What did you and the other wolf want? It obviously wasn't me you came here for." Derek's brows furrow in irritation.

The girl laughs victoriously. "Oh mutt, it was surely all for you," her voice is sickeningly sweet and it makes Stiles' mouth go dry and his throat tighten unconsciously. "We came to see who the Hale wolf would take as his mate. And it seems you've chosen a human, no less." Her lips curl up in a smirk that makes Scott's fingers twitch on her neck. Stiles is his best friend; he won't let anyone talk about him that way. Allison's eyes dart to Stiles' stiff posture—and this wasn't exactly how she'd imagined Stiles finding out about Derek's feelings for him; but she's hoping he won't be able to put two and two together.

"He's not—" Derek starts.

"Why does it matter if I'm human?" Stiles interjects as Isaac sits up on his own. "Why would that be of any benefit to you?" He can hear his heart pounding in his chest again; deafening and suffocating, and he's sure the woman and the rest of his pack can hear it too.

"Stiles, stay out of this." Derek warns, red eyes and fangs and claws and snarls.

"It's about stature, _boy_, and the Hale territory is far too big for one single Alpha to control." Her eyes flicker to Derek's stoic expression for a moment before she continues, "so we figured if we killed off his band of misfit puppies, the three of us—" her eyes flicker to the decapitated head of her once companion and she whimpers in the back of her throat, "—could rule it together. They were right when they told us some weak little human held this pack together." Her expression is broken for a second and her eyes burn red before fading to a calmer, caramel colored hazel. She looks back up at Stiles venomously and Boyd's grip tightens till his claws are completely buried into her deltoids and the base of her elbow—she doesn't even flinch as her gaze shifts to Derek. "But it seems your pack is stronger than we had anticipated, and you've already found your mate so—" her voice catches when she looks to Stiles' blank, blushing face, "—oh, but—oh my. He's not your mate, is he?" Her eyes land dead on Derek's stiffened posture and she knows she's right.

The wolf within Derek rages violently, beating against his ribcage till it burns. _'Mine,_' it cries, and Derek wants to snarl back; _'mine.'_

The laugh that pierces the sky sounds like shrill bells and Derek cringes away from the sound. "Oh this is priceless. You want him to be yours, but you can't have him, can you? Oh my, oh _my_." Erica and Boyd dig their claws into her flesh and Scott yanks her head further up, exposing the slender, pale column of her elegant throat. Derek reaches forth and grips her throat in his tight, rough hands. The woman gurgles and her eyes bleed red to match the crimson of her split lips.

"Derek?" Stiles asks as his voice cracks. Allison runs to his side and shakes her head furiously in warning—_"not now, Stiles,"_ she whispers. But Stiles wants nothing more than a confirmation—the situation can wait, they're going to kill the female Alpha anyways. "Derek, is that true?" Allison blocks out his line of vision to Derek with her body and a pleading look on her face—_"not the best of times, Stiles."_

Derek's eyes burn red and fangs too big for his mouth emerge and the woman just strains a laughs. "Say one more word, and I'll end you where you lay—"

"Seems like I've already ended you, Derek Hale—"

Derek roars as he digs his claws into her throat, ripping out her larynx and esophagus in one swift, easy movement. Her eyes grow wide and terrified, blood flowing from between her lips and the open wound of her neck as she chokes and gags. Scott lifts and twists her head clear off her shoulders while Erica and Boyd hold down her transforming body at it jerks to protect the wounded areas. Effectively, the pack ends both of the foreign werewolves lives—mission accomplished.

"Burn the bodies." Derek orders, his teeth still too big for his mouth and the taste of tin and pennies and rust fill his lungs with every breath and he's still fighting to restrain the wolf within him, resisting the urge to run to Stiles' side and make sure the boy is okay.

But Stiles is in his line of vision in an instant, a question hanging in his brow as he reaches out to touch the wound on his stomach; "Derek, tell me, what did she mean—"

"Not right now, Stiles!" Derek snaps, fangs bleeding over his lips in a snarl that wasn't meant for the boy. Stiles flinches away, jerking his hands back to his side. Derek wants to reach out and touch him, apologize and explain everything—might as well now, right?

Stiles sighs and scratches the back of his head, biting his bottom lip—and Derek's knees feel weak to witness those actions. "Whatever, dude." Stiles mutters, wounded pride showing. Derek's fingers twitch and he wants to reach out and comfort Stiles, but his body won't respond the way he wants it to. The boy slinks back to the wounded Isaac who is still trying to stand on his own, but Allison is forcing him to stay seated.

The pack tends to the two dead Alpha's, gathering enough wood for a pyre. Derek catches Allison's eye as Stiles refuses to meet anyone's gaze. She gives the Alpha a disappointed look and grabs hold of Stiles' sleeve. "Come on, help me with the others." She says in a small, soft voice.

"Yeah, sure." Stiles replies, looking to the ground as they stand and gather wood big enough to cover the amount for burning both bodies. His stomach drops at the same time his heart climbs to his throat and effectively chokes off his airway, and Stiles hates that feelings he's developed for their Alpha more and more.

Boyd shrugs off his blood-splattered jacket and hands it to the naked Derek with a sigh. "Come on, let's get you to the house. Jackson's got to have a spare change of clothes. These guys can handle the clean up."

Derek agrees.

* * *

"You were attacked?" Lydia's face falls as Stiles stumbles up to the vacant house on clumsy feet and almost trips on the stairs out of surprise. He gaps at her like a fish out of water as she asks him; "are you okay? Is everyone okay? Where's Isaac, Erica and Boyd? Is Allison okay? What about Scott? Oh God, is Scott okay? What happened? What about—"

"God, Lydia, yes, everyone's okay. Jesus, calm down. They're just cleaning up the mess." Stiles smiles, his face blossoming into a crimson shade that spreads across the bridge of his nose. Lydia will always be his first love, no matter what happened between them in the past, and she will always make him catch his breath.

"Where's Derek? He and I need to talk about—well, stuff. We have stuff to discuss. I wish to discuss things with Derek. Yeah." He pauses, looking at Lydia crossed as she scrutinizes him up and down. "Stuff. There's stuff that Derek and I need to talk about." He finally says, confidently.

Lydia sighs heavily, her shoulders sag and her forehead creases as she rubs her eyes with her forefinger and thumb. "Jackson got Derek dressed. Go on inside. Be careful."

"Be careful? Of what?" Stiles asks her tirelessly.

Lydia scoffs, "oh honey," she mutters in a breath, rolling her eyes at the clueless boy, "you still don't see it, do you?" Her voice is soft and gentle, and Stiles worries about what that implies. "Jackson could hear the conversation that she-bitch had with Derek from _here,_ honey. I know what was said." Her lips turn up and Stiles steps up the stairs to her side.

"Yeah, so?" He shrugs. "She said I smell like Derek. She assumed I was his mate. I'm not, so what of it?"

"And, what else?" Lydia pushes, a brow raises in his direction and Stiles hates that she's so smart.

"That, uh, _that!_ That is why I'm here to talk. With Derek. Not you. Go away, Lydia." Stiles flushes, frustrated and embarrassed, walking past her quickly and into the burnt down remains of the Hale house.

Lydia giggles. "I'm glad you finally realized what the rest of us already know, Stiles Stilinski!" She teases.

Stiles rolls his eyes at the girl as the door closes behind him and her giggle follows him in. The house groans as he walks a few steps inside, and the floor boards creak beneath his feet—it's probably something that he's never really noticed before, but he believes the creepiness and the creaking has always been a part of the house since Derek moved back in. "Derek?" He calls softly. He listens to the moaning of the old house, the echoing of noises somewhere within the skeleton of the once beautiful structure—but no reply reaches his ears.

Sunlight filters in through the holes in the walls, disturbed only by the soft, small particles floating in the air. Stiles smiles as he walks over to one of the beams of light and runs his hands through it, and instantly his skin is just a tad bit warmer where the sunlight touches him.

Stiles hums in satisfaction as he turns his hand over in the sunbeam, the warmth dancing over his flesh elegantly. He imagines this is how it must feel to touch Derek's skin—always warm, almost soft. He knows that's a cliché way to describe someone and he just smiles, because, here's to hoping he could really be Derek's soul mate—his mate—his, well, his _whatever_ he can be.

"Derek," Stiles sighs longingly, his lips turning up in a soft smile as the sunlight warms up his wrist and forearm.

"Stiles."

Stiles turns, surprised as he comes face to face with the Alpha, and he blushes. Jackson stands behind him with a smug smile as he climbs down the unstable stairs and bounds past him and out the door to Lydia—who is undoubtedly babbling on about what Jackson might have seen.

The clothes Derek's wearing are cleaner, but the shirt has a fine line of pink running through it from a wound that hasn't fully healed all the way.

Stiles opens his mouth to form words but all that comes out is a strangled noise caught in the back of his throat. He blushes and Derek looks away; his wolf howling haughtily, '_mine_,' it whimpers eagerly. Derek growls and Stiles wonders why.

"Stiles, what do you want?" Derek sighs and his breath washes over Stiles' skin—and it's warm and soft, and the boy can't help but smile.

"You like me."

"No."

"Oh, you totally do. You dig me."

"Go home, Stiles."

"Oh no, you're not getting out of this that easily. You like me. You're totally into me. You're done for." Stiles beams up at him like he's the everlasting sun and Derek can't look away from the boys' lips.

"I never claimed to have liked you as anything more than a pest, Stilinski. Go home." Derek unconsciously steps forward, and even though he's only an inch taller than Stiles, the boy still feels like the werewolf towers over him unconditionally.

"No," his voice cracks slightly, "and stop telling me to go home! Why do you keep telling me to go home—" Stiles gasps out of fake-excitement, poking a slender finger into Derek's muscled chest and whimpering at the warmth that greets him, "—are you at a _loss for words_ and embarrassed, Derek?" The boys' lips turned up in a sheepish smile as Derek crowds in around him. Stiles backed into the crumbling wall of the burnt house and Derek moves in closer, his brows knit together tightly and his lips pulled into a thin line.

The wolf cackles within Derek's soul and it chilled him to the bone. _'mine!'_ It whines eagerly, pouncing in his chest; Derek's mouth waters as he takes in the scent of Stiles so close to him. Derek blinks the noise away and Stiles stares up at him expectantly. The Alpha is hovering so close that Stiles can hear every time he inhales and exhales and count the times his heart pumps by staring at his jugular.

Derek sighs longingly, dipping his head and pressing their foreheads together as he exhales. He closes his eyes and Stiles mutters; "pack puppy," causing Derek grunts something close to; "shut up," as a response.

"Tell me why you aren't surprised or—or repulsed, or something other than, well, you?" Derek asks suddenly, his voice softer as his eyes part just slights. Stiles feels his mouth go dry and his throat thickens—but Derek's breath washes over him again and consumes his thoughts, and the man's mouth is so close that he can almost, almost just—

"Well—because—because I am a highly sought after individual." He stuttered, and Derek raised a brow with a cocky smirk, peeling their foreheads apart as he stares down at the boy. The gap between them becomes smaller and smaller as Derek inches closer and closer. "I have many suitors, Derek Hale. Don't give me that look."

"There's something else, isn't there?" He whispers, a hand finding the edge of Stiles' jaw and rounding down his chin where he turns Stiles' face up to his and captures his eyes. "Tell me," and Derek's voice is something close to husky, and it makes Stiles breathe heavy and sweat and shiver and he's so close to hyperventilating that he, he—

Stile gulps. "Derek, I—I, uh, uhm, I—" He makes a whimpering noise in the back of his throat and stares at Derek's thin lips longingly before he leaps forward clumsily, his hands digging into Derek's scalp and pulling the Alpha's face to his, claiming his lips and smashing their noses together at the same time. Their teeth bump for a second, and Stiles swears he nicks his lips against Derek's front two teeth, but he doesn't care. He nips and bites at Derek's lower lip, and the growl he receives in response makes him pause for just a moment too long. Derek growls lower, his chest vibrating against Stiles' breastbone. He shoves the boy back against the wall roughly, his hands finding the back of Stiles' neck and curving around the base of his skull. He takes the boy's lips to his, slower this time, moving their mouths together in unison, sucking at Stiles' bottom lip, nipping at his jaw line and neck softly, eagerly, then trailing back up to reclaim a swollen, plump, earnest mouth.

Stiles moans softly into the kiss, curling his hands around Derek's wrist and extending his neck up to slip his tongue through Derek's entrance, exploring a wet, warm cavity that screams his name. "Derek," Stiles sighs wantonly, and the Alpha whimpers when the boy pulls away and leans his head against the wall behind him. Derek goes in for another kiss but Stiles turns his head away at the last second with a startlingly dark blush.

"Why'd you stop?" Derek asks, his voice heavy with arousal and need and something Stiles is unfamiliar with entirely. He leans his head into the crook of Stiles' neck and breathes in the scent of everything he's ever thought the boy would smell like this close up. Stiles shivers and tries to catch himself from falling too hard or too fast—yet it doesn't work.

He's already so far gone he doesn't even care anymore.

Stiles turns his head towards Derek and the man meets his eyes and they kiss once more—fearlessly, eagerly, wantonly. "I could never stop," Stiles mutters into lips that are something closer to scalding, something closer to soft, and something entirely different from sunshine and something entirely closer to starlight.

* * *

**WOOH! Last few chapters should be up soon. Not sure how much longer I'll have this one go, but hopefully one more chapter should do it!**


	4. Wicked

**The Wild Ones  
**_So Wicked_

_**"**__**We are like roses that have never bothered to bloom  
**__**when we should have bloomed  
**__**and it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting.**__**"  
**__-Charles Bukowski_

* * *

Days pass seamlessly.

The end of Derek's heat comes swifter than anyone within the pack can really imagine. Not many werewolves show up in the woods after the two Alpha attacks, and the few that do are scared off by Derek's growls and snarls and threats, and if that doesn't work, well, the pack chasing after them before they even reach the Hale houses' front porch does.

Though, news of Derek's heat travels fast in Beacon Hills, and Allison tells the group Chris is on the hunt for any wolves that show up unannounced in the future. An increasing number of '_animal attacks'_ on the locals and resident wildlife are causing the public to panic again and the town is demanding a man hunt for the beasts responsible.

"More mountain lions, they assume, but, well, dad knows better. He knows about you going into heat, Derek," Allison bites her lip as Derek winces, "he expected it, just not this soon. He won't break the treaty, but he's just letting you know this better not be a bi-annually thing." She chews on her bottom lip nervously and wrings her hands in front of her. She doesn't like relaying information like this to Derek, and the Alpha can't even be mad at her for it.

Derek groans in response, throwing his head back and closing his eyes at the thought that maybe, just maybe, the cycle of _heats _come and go every six months. "God, I hope not." He scowls at the roughness of his voice and wonders if he always sounds so disheartened.

Erica chuckles and turns her head away just in time to miss Derek's heated glare.

So, the pack continues to hang out at the Hale house whenever the sun is up; that is, until Derek announces that he has rented a very nice, very stylist new apartment in the city and he'll be moving into said apartment within the week—the end of his heat, presumably.

The rest of the pack, and Stiles included, will be going off to colleges around the country within a few more weeks to come, and effectively splitting up the pack. Derek doesn't feel he needs to stay in the burnt down husk of his family's home when they're all gone, so the apartment in the city seemed so much more… Appealing, than being alone, in a house that's too burdened with dark shadows and dark memories.

Stiles frowns, knowing that means the Hale house will be unoccupied, and not only that, but now Derek would be farther away from him than ever before—and let's not even get started on the, well, whatever they are; they haven't even talked about it. In fact, Stiles' dejected expression deepens; they've hardly talked at all since the other day...

"Don't worry."

And _of course_ it's Lydia. The one time Stiles separates himself from the group, she appears and decides to talk _his_ ear off. She always knows when something's wrong with Stiles—and sometimes he hates her for it.

A soft smile appears on her glossy lips as Stiles pouts on the stairs, away from the pack and their confusing Alpha in the other room. She takes a seat beside him, curling her fingers around his bicep and leaning her body against him for support. She hums sweetly, and Stiles feels his nerves calming at the tune coming from the back of her throat.

"He'll come see you when you go off to school, you know. He has to. You're, well, you're you. You're his—you know, whatever you are to him." She blurts out the end of her statement quickly, and Stiles' sour mood returns. He knows she's trying to be helpful, and yet, he just can't bring himself to be in a good mood. "You're his mate, now, aren't you? Or, basically, something like that, right?" Lydia asks brightly, her eyes glistening in wonder.

She is so happy for Stiles and he can't even bring himself to be happy for _himself._

"Yeah, I-I guess." Stiles mutters softly. He looks towards his feet and his bottom lip protrudes out, misaligning his mouth.

Lydia's lips purse together and her fingers tighten at his muscles just the slightest amount, but Stiles notices. "What is it?" She asks, and her voice has taken a different tone—hints of worry, hints of sadness, hints of seriousness; all demanding an answer from him regardless.

Stiles shakes his head, trying to dislodge her hand and stand. "No. Tell me now, Stilinksi." She glares at him and her voice is challenging. The air around them becomes tense and Stiles finds it harder to breathe with her hard gaze on his face. He swallows and feels his chest trying to expand and suddenly it just _won't._

Lydia will always be his first love, and she will always hold a certain sway over him. She will always hold a piece of him that will never truly die; that he will never truly swallow wholly. She will always find a way to crawl under his skin and find his secrets, even ones Scott doesn't quite know yet.

"I just, I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave him." Stiles nods his head in Derek's direction, in the group direction, and Lydia gets the jest and gestures for him to contine—she'll understand, won't she? The Alpha seems to be talking to the pack in such a manner that Stiles is almost positive he won't really be paying attention to their conversation anyways.

Lydia seems to consider this for a moment before she speaks; slowly this time, as if Stiles needs an interpreter for her to speak to him clearly. "Stiles, you have to go. Your dad is helping with tuition and you got a great scholarship and you're going to be studying what you love!" Her whisper is more of a hiss; more of a disbelieving tone, almost. "Jackson and I have been together forever, but I'm leaving. I'm going away to a college over a thousand miles away from him." Her eyebrows pull in to meet each other at the center and Stiles glances down to look at her reluctantly, biting his lip.

"Don't waste your life waiting for someone to love you back." She hesitates, her hand slipping away from around his bicep. Stiles' eyes were wider now, staring at her in disbelief.

"Thanks for the sudden change of heart, Lyds." Stiles scoffs bitterly, and for a moment Lydia feels like her attempts to make him feel better were all for naught.

She shoulders him gently, her eyes growing kinder than before as she bats her lashes at him. "You know what I mean, Stiles." She breathes the sentence out as if it were a reflex, as if she were exhausted and weary, "you two will be fine. But you need to have separate lives, too." Lydia's gaze is pointed again, staring into Stiles' soul, and God are her lips forever beautiful. "You can't stay here waiting for him to come around."

Stiles shakes his head and stands, staring at her defiantly. He opens and closes his mouth several times, glaring at her well-manicured toes and pretty pink pumps. Her bare skin holds no sway over him anymore, because all he can think about is Derek—Derek's lips, his skin, the taste of the bitter, salty sweat at his Adam's apple, his beautiful, pale green eyes…

His shoulders sag slightly, a sour noise caught in his throat and choked off in an odd way that makes him sound like a strangled animal. He shakes his head as he began walking down the remaining stairs.

The heavy foot falls stomping away catch Derek's attention as Stiles opens the door and walks out, grumbling something like; _"fuck everyone."_

Lydia huffs, looking over towards the group as she scratches her nose and rolls her eyes. Scott is looking at her with a question hanging in his brow before his eyes follow Stiles out of the broken house and to the barren, sun-kissed field. Erica and Boyd share a sad glance at the vanishing figure and then Erica sighs, nodding her head to Isaac in a way that say, _"go"._

"Yeah, I'll go talk to him," Isaac grunts, looking to Scott for reassurance.

Scott shakes his head, glaring at Derek pointedly. "I got it." Scott says, a hand on Isaac's shoulder to stop him, and there's an edge to his voice that Allison smirks at—_"protecting the baby Stiles,"_ she mutters to Isaac, and he giggles softly, though it is cut short due to the situation.

Derek stares after Stiles and knows something is amiss, and Lydia gives him a 'duh!' expression, and gestures for him to follow Stiles as the boy rampaged towards the tree line—and Derek can hear the unsteady pounding of the boys heart and the soft, hysterical choking in the back of his throat as he tries to prevent himself from screaming.

Derek puts a hand on Scott's shoulder and shakes his head, and then he's following Stiles footsteps out the door before anyone can stop him.

* * *

"Stiles." Derek calls and before Stiles can make it to the trees, the Alpha is at his side with brows tugged together in the middle and a hard, cold stare greeting him like an old friend.

Stiles makes a strangled noise. "Ugh, God, you're just everywhere, aren't you? There's literally no peace whenever you're around." The boy bites back bitterly, trudging on. His gaze never lifts to meet Derek's, and the Alpha is slightly hurt by that. Derek stumbles over a rock with his attention straining on Stiles and not his surroundings. He hadn't been expecting Stiles' statement to hurt as much as it did—yet here he is, silently drowning and screaming beside Stiles as the boy walks over dried up leaves and small stones and broken wood.

"What's wrong?" Derek forces himself to ask, his voice rougher than he had intended.

Stiles scoffs, rolling his eyes and shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "You're leaving." He treks over a larger fallen branch as they enter the woods. The sunshine filters in through the treetops, reflecting in Stiles' deep brown eyes and Derek catches his breath for a moment, his heart clenching within his breast in a terrible, terrible manor.

"Stiles." He sighs softly, almost pleading. The boy gives him no purchase and walks on, putting more and more distance between them than is really necessary. Derek stops chasing after the boy and slowly, slowly, after the distance between them stretches more than ten feet, Stiles finally turns back towards him and sighs heavily—but Derek can hear the way Stiles' heart skips a beat and the Alpha frowns.

"You're leaving and we—we, I mean, the pack and I, we just—but then there's—just, but. I'm going to be—like, across the country and. Just. Ugh!" Stiles stammers, frustrated with himself and how he can't seem to form the proper wording; form thoughts into words. He breathes heavily, his nostrils flaring as he groans. _Don't leave,_ he wants to scream, _don't leave me_, he wants to cry.

The wolf within Derek whines worriedly and Derek knows it thinks Stiles is going to vanish suddenly, turn and run from the forest and never come back—leave them both forever and never come back. The wolf worries he will never kiss Stiles' lips again, never feel his skin, never smell his scent or taste him on the air. And he whines again, because he doesn't understand—doesn't understand why Stiles is so frustrated with them. Derek tries to calm his wolf down by stepping forward one, two, three steps closer to Stiles. The wolf still and sniffs the air, and Derek can taste Stiles' sadness on the air like a bitter treat—and he cringes.

"Stiles, I'm not going far. It'll only be a few mil—"

"You're missing the point!" Stiles groans hoarsely, and Derek doesn't take anymore steps forward. "You're missing everything, Derek." He whispers, and Stiles' expression shatters into pure and utter sadness. His eyes cast down and stare at his feet and he wrings his hands in front of him desperately.

The wolf howls longingly. _Stiles,_ it calls, but Derek's lips never move to speak, _Stiles is worried, Derek. Make him stop._

"What are we?" Stiles asks, looking to the Alpha with a defiant stare. Stiles can't hold it back anymore. "Look, I like you, Derek. I'm not afraid to tell you that now. I lose my breath when I'm around you. I'm constantly worried about you; about losing you, about you getting hurt, about you not being able to heal fast enough when you i_do_/i get hurt. I worry you'll never come back, that I'll never see you again, and everything you do to put yourself in harms way and to protect me and the pack—"

"—your pack, too."

"—Goddamnit, just shut up, Derek!" Stiles cries angrily, flailing his arms above his head in frustration. He runs a hand over his face and head then bends at the waist. He puts his hands on his knees and breathes in deeply several times, and God he wants to be sick. He feels sick. He stares at the ground intently, trying to find words. Derek can hear the boys rampant heartbeat from the small distance they share and he _knows_ Stiles; he knows everything Stiles is saying is true.

He thinks Derek is leaving him.

"You're all I think about, Derek." Stiles whimpers, and he knows Derek can hear him despite how quiet he's speaking. "You're all I feel. You're everywhere. You're all I wa—" He swallows deeply, and Derek can see the way his Adam's apple bobs slowly up and down, and he can feel his mouth growing dry at the words he knows Stiles will say.

_Yes,_ the wolf whispers huskily, but Derek bats the creature back in his mind. He _needs_ Stiles to say it, say the words that will set him free—

"You're all I want, Derek." Stiles looks him in the eyes and even at their distance, Derek can see the way his eyes glisten in the sunlight. But, the feeling of freedom doesn't come to Derek like he thought it would have; instead a feeling of dread and heat fill his stomach like a heavy stone and immobilize him, gluing him to the spot in which he stands.

"Tell me what happens when I go off to college and you're still here, Derek." Stiles asks, his question becoming more of a demand as his brows knit together. Stiles knows Derek won't give him a straight answer—won't tell him the truth—because Stiles already knows the truth.

And God how it all hurts.

Stiles can feel his skin being pulled too tight over his bones, his stomach flipping violently, his heart aching within his breast, his teeth tingle and his eyes burn, sending prickling sensations up over his scalp and down the back of his neck. He feels like an exposed nerve, constantly being picked and punched and prodded at.

"Will you be here when I come back?" Stiles asks, gesturing to all around him as he pulls his body straight up, and Derek swallows hard. "Or is this it?" His voice is bitter and starving, depraved of any happiness from the days before.

Derek stares at him and sighs, wetting his lips before he talks. But oh how sweet it would be if he could run; run and never look back. "Stiles, I'm not going anywhere. What do I have to do to prove to you that I'm not leaving you, I'm just leaving this _house_?"

Stiles doesn't say anything. He just stares blankly back at Derek, as if waiting for him to continue. The wolf whines in a high pitched voice, _Stiles, no_, it panics and growls as if it's going to go mad and the hair on Derek's arms stand up at the heartbreaking sound his wolf makes, _stay, you're mine, Stiles, please stay,_ it whimpers, and Derek's heart clenches within his ribs, beating frantically.

The boy sighs, scratching his head when Derek doesn't speak, and the Alpha realizes the time between them had stretched on longer than he had intended. "Stiles, I—"

Derek's phone rings, screeching an alarm at the top of its lungs, piercing the atmosphere and treetops with a ring that's almost deafening to the heaviness of the situation. Its callers name blinking dramatically against the black screen till Derek reaches into his pocket and silences it. And for a moment, Stiles' heart drops and he looks away. Derek glances at the name that pops up on the screen and it reads out; _Peter_

He gulps and looks up at Stiles, as if willing the boy to vanish. The boy regards him curiously, the side of his mouth tugging up at one corner sardonically. His eyes are piercing and slightly accusing. "Of course, right?" Stiles mutters and rolls his eyes. "Go ahead, Derek, answer it." He waves his hand and Derek can hear the way Stiles' heartbeats unevenly, and he wants to ignore the call.

But his hands work on their own agenda, and he puts the phone up to his ear. "What?" He snarls.

_Ahh, well, good day to you too, nephew._ Peter is grinning and Derek can hear it through the phone. _Have I caught you at a bad time?_ His tone is condescending and it pisses Derek off to no end.

"You know you have. What do you want?" Derek bites back, his teeth becoming too big for him mouth and he has to breathe through his nose to regress the transformation as his wolf snarls within his head; _Stiles, wait,_ it calls.

_We need to talk. I'll be there in thirty minutes. Be ready._ Derek can't really say no, so he hangs up and looks at Stiles who's staring back at him unamused.

He crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. "Just tell me what we are, Derek." Stiles voice is pleading, almost begging, but Derek can't seem to find the words. His throat closes and his thoughts feel sluggish. What is there to say, anyways? Tell him what, you're my mate and I can't live without you? His wolf snarls in agreement; _tell him now, Derek_.

Stiles almost seems to understand the Alpha's silence, and just nods his head, looking to his feet for support. He kicks at a dried up leaf absentmindedly and smiles sadly, softly, back up at Derek. "I get it. Really." He bites his lip and Derek crumbles.

"Stiles," he croaks, throat dry and tongue feeling numb, "you're not even eighteen yet, you're still just a kid, you still have an innocents to protect and experiment with life and I—I won't—" Derek breathes as if it were the easiest thing he'd ever said. He feels a burden being lifted off his shoulders almost instantly, but it comes crashing down around his head with the hurt look Stiles gives him. "I won't take that from you."

Stiles scoffs, hiding his bitter feelings behind an angry mask that Derek can see right through. "Yeah, cause fighting Werewolves and Faeries and Kanima and whatever else that comes into this town can't possibly take ones innocence away."

Derek stares at him pointedly, and it all snaps together in Stiles' mind. _Innocence,_ Derek had said. Stiles gasps.

"You're talking about what, my virginity? You're seriously worried about my _virginity?!_" Stiles flails, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. "Seriously?" He grounds out through clenched teeth.

Derek's face burns, and he's not sure if he's blushing or just angry now. "I'm not talking about just your virginity Stiles. You haven't gone out with other people. For me, you're it. You're the one." His tongue feels numb against his teeth and he wants to bite down on it to regain some feeling—or just to numb the aching in his chest.

Stiles stares at him in shock and moves closer, his hand reaching out to touch Derek's shoulder softly, his fingers tightening around the clothe at his neck. "Derek—"

"No, Stiles." The Alpha growls out, his eyes flickering red as he jerks his body away.

Stiles hand hurriedly falls to his side and he looks away. _He doesn't understand you, Derek._ Derek's wolf roars in his ears, and for a moment it's deafening.

"I—I'm sorry. But, you need to go off to college. You need to experiment. I'll be here, whenever you come back. I'll be waiting."

Stiles sucks in a slow breath, and Derek watches his rapid pulse and feels his throat drying up. "So, you don't want me." Stiles mutters, and the hurt in his voice claims Derek's heart and rips away at it eagerly.

"That's not what I meant at all Stiles, and you know that."

The boy scoffs, his eyes revealing a sense of bitterness before vanishing once more into hurt. Derek catches it, but says nothing.

"You should get back to the pack." Stiles mutters, thin lipped and rebellious. He's done talking, and Derek knows—he understands. Stiles steps away from the Alpha, backpedaling to the edges of the forest and towards the main road. "Have Scott drive my car to my house whenever he's done. I'm just gunna go for a run."

Before Derek can protest, Stiles tosses him the keys to his Jeep and then he's off, jogging at a steady, even pace. Derek could easily catch him and bring him back, but he doesn't.

He watches the boys figure vanish behind trees and his scent fades from Derek's skin.

His wolf whines in a high-pitched voice once more, roaring in his ear and deafening Derek's mind. It echoes against his hollow ribs, carving Stiles' name across his bones, burning his lungs like acid from screams he hasn't yet released. _No,_ the beast cries, _Stiles, please. Don't go_.

"He has to." Derek replies, staring after a figure that's no longer in his line of sight.

Stiles' scent continues to fade from his skin, and with a sharp gust of wind it vanishes completely, replaced by the fragrance of the woods—and oh, how beautiful, Derek thinks; how something so constant can be destroyed.


	5. Wounded

**The Wild Ones  
**_Wounded_

_**"The conversation between your fingers and someone else's skin is the most important discussion you can ever have."  
**__-__Iain Thomas_

* * *

A dull ache has been slowly tightening its grip at Derek's bones as the day progressed. He cringes as he rolls his shoulders a little and the ache seems to lessen just enough for him to be able to ignore it, at least for now. He'll talk to Deaton about it later—maybe he pulled a muscle doing something stupid and it's just now starting to act up. The Alpha shrugs it off and waits for his Uncle outside the Hale house. He tries to push the dull aching out of his mind as it starts up again, only moments after the relief set in. Werewolves heal fast enough, so whatever muscles he pulled will heal just like all the other injuries he's ever had.

Peter arrives ten minutes after Stiles leaves, and the pack is instantly on alert when Derek comes stomping up the steps of his house—without the brown eyed boy at his side, and in exchange, his psychotic relative pulling up to the house in a rather expensive sport car.

Scott is the first one who challenges Derek.

"Where's Stiles?" Scott demands angrily. His face is contorted in rage and his breath is hot and fast at Derek's brow. He's in Derek's face instantly, millimeter's away and crowding in the Alpha's space. He shoves the man's chest glaring dangerously at the Derek's scowl. Scott's eyes flicker between brown and golden-ember and Derek doesn't even bother to reciprocate the threat. Scott knows Derek will win any fight between them now, and Derek knows Scott is only interested in making sure that he hadn't hurt Stiles in some way.

Isaac comes out the house at the sound of raised voices, his brow creased in worry and fear. He grips Scott's forearm, growling at him softly—almost like a whimper; because as much as he loves Scott, Derek is still his Alpha, and he has to protect his Alpha no matter what. Scott glances at the hand around his biceps, then up at Isaac's face—which has nothing but honest intentions showering his expression. Scott sighs and backs off of Derek slightly, but his eyes flicker ember gold once more as he glares back at the Alpha.

Peter jumps out of his car and appears at Derek's side in an instant. He's smiling, and Jackson's growl can be heard from within the house. "Your boy went for a run. I saw him on the trail. Now run along, mutts, the grown up have important matters to discuss." Peter taunts, his lips pulling up in a sneer. He looks to Derek expectantly, then walks inside the burnt remains of their family's house as if it were still standing, and Suki were still inside, helping Derek's mother prepare dinner.

A gnawing, tugging feeling grips at Derek's spine at the thought of his family, but he forces it away.

Erica is standing at the stair well with her arms crossed over his chest. The corner of her lip turns up in a silent sneer and she scoffs, unamused, as she stares at Peter. "I've seen enough of you in the past month for this to be a healthy re-occurrence," she rumbles, rolling her eyes at Peter. "I'm gunna go find Stiles." And she leaves the house, brushing past Peter with Boyd in tow.

Derek glances down at the keys of Stiles' Jeep clutched absently in his hand, and they're suddenly burning into the skin of his palms with guilt. It makes his shoulder ache ten times worse than before. Derek bites the inside of his cheek as he presses the keys into Scott's hand, releasing a long, steady exhale and a pointed glance. Scott gives him a confused look, but Derek just waves him away.

The Beta and his hunter girlfriend, Allison, head towards the Jeep, and just as the female hunter walks by the Alpha werewolf, she gives Derek a bewildered look. "Ass," she hisses venomously.

Derek growls back at her, then looks towards his Uncle inside his family's house. He doesn't know when they appeared, but Lydia and Jackson are hanging around the doorframe of the house, waiting for Derek to dismiss them—or at least, Jackson is. Lydia rolls her eyes—_because this petty shit is beneath her and she is the Queen._

"Go," Derek orders.

Jackson nods, pulling Lydia to his side with a second glance back at Peter. Her hand slips from Jacksons momentarily as she reaches out to touch Peter in acknowledgment that he's there with a soft smile. Peter grins down at her and grips her hand in his, kissing her knuckles' in passing as she leaves.

Peter sighs as Lydia walks away with a smile on her face. He gives Derek a pointed look, and the Alpha merely growls. Of course his Uncle would chase off his entire pack.

"You should really teach your pack puppies some respect, nephew." The older man taunts.

Derek ignores him, watching and listening as his pack fans out into the woods; some searching for the boy who runs with wolves and others simply leaving just to get away from Peter. "What do you want, Peter?" He grounds out lowly.

Peter just scoffs, ignoring his nephews question as he steps inside the living room of the house and leans against the raggedy couch. He looks around the ruins; at the scorch marks that mar the walls like scars and the ugly, mismatched furniture.

"So, tell me," he arches a brow at the Alpha and Derek follows him into the room hesitantly, "your mate. I assume you found one." Peter's pointed gaze means he already knows the answer.

"Shut up."

"I knew it was Stiles all along, by the way, even before you marked him."

"What?" Derek's eyes grow threateningly wide, flickering red. "How did you—how did you know?" How dare he—how dare Peter even utter Stiles' name.

The wolf growls within him, vibrating his breastbone, then whimpers. A sharp pain rockets down Derek's shoulder blade and he resists the urge to lean against something solid for a moment and catch his breath.

Peter chuckles almost manically and Derek looks away, ashamed. "Oh Derek really, you ought to learn to control yourself better. Of course I knew." He gives Derek a small, conceded smile and Derek wants to rip his throat out. "Your eyes gave you away almost every time. You're fond of him, you always have been, even before you knew you loved him. I knew it would be your undoing." His smile seems almost serine as he crosses his arms over his chest. He chuckles once more, muttering; "nice mark, by the way. I love how many you placed on him. Persistent, aren't you?" He grins. "Little devil."

"What do you want?" Derek demands, his brows pulled together. He hadn't told Stiles about the process of marking an Alpha's mate, and he doesn't know for sure if he ever would now.

Peter scoffs, unfolding his arms from his chest as he straightens up and fixes his petit coat. "Listen, Derek, I know we didn't really get the chance to talk about this heat you're going through in depth—I knew you'd be traumatized by it, so I kinda dropped the ball and left you to your own devices." He smiles coyly and Derek growls, because of course Peter would be an ass at this very moment and just beat around the bushes. He continues after drawing in a sharp breath; "had your parents made it to this day, they would have made all their children read the bestiary and learn about the Heat. But! You learned enough from your father, I see. You've marked your mate; you've made a suitable choice. All is well in the world. Except," he pauses, brow raised as he waits for Derek to catch up.

"You really do like hearing the sound of your own voice, don't you?" Derek barks, fists clenched at his side. Peter just sneers and waits for Derek to signal him to continue. Derek sighs, "except, _what_, Peter?" He asks, rolling his eyes and rubbing his temple in exasperation. He's really not up for playing his Uncles games right now.

"_Except_, every Alpha needs a mate, Derek, or they'll die." Derek's eyes widen but Peter raises his hands to signal the Alpha to '_wait,'_. "Not right away, but eventually. And especially if their mate is present or unwilling." Derek doesn't move, doesn't even make a sound, and Peter knows he doesn't quite understand the severity of the situation. He sighs and rubs his head, mimicking Derek's former actions.

Peter spins a tale Derek has heard many times as a child. "Your mother and father were the worst case scenario I'd ever seen. Your father marked her the instant her saw her in the waiting line at the library. He fell in love with her, and followed her. Remember now?" Derek nods and Peter continues. "She was already seeing another human at that time, and after a few months of ignoring your father's advances, he slowly began withering away. That was, until your mother's boyfriend mysteriously disappeared. Do you follow?"

Derek had heard the story before, had giggled at it as a child when their father had told him the tale as a child. Though, his father told the story slightly differently, and his mother had always frowned and stayed silent when their father spun the tale of marking mates. Laura had seemed just as unhappy about it as well, but she could always see deeper into things than Derek had ever been able to.

"Most Alpha's don't go through a heat until their wolf senses a potential mate close by—again, like your mother and father. Your father sensed her, marked her, claimed her as his, but she was already someone else's, so it turned into a waiting game for your dad, and if it had lasted too long, he would have _died,_ Derek." There was a hitch in his voice and he shifted his weight. "He killed your mother's boyfriend and consoled her, then swept her off her feet. She found out later, of course, but by that time they were already married and she was pregnant with her second child."

Derek nods, because he's grasping the concept—he will die without Stiles. The realization is breath taking, but he looks at his feet and steadies his dizzying thoughts.

"The heat is a way of attracting your wolf's mate further, and it works, for the most part. I mean, obviously in your case, if I can smell Stiles all over your skin. There, you've found your mate."

"And?" Derek swallows, because he knows the bad news is coming, and he knows what the bad news is.

"And, you're letting him _go_, aren't you?"

Derek's stomach falls, and Peter must have seen something in Derek's expression that says that he finally understands everything completely, because he suddenly becomes very solemn as he straightens up. Derek's Uncle sighs heavily, his head falling forward as he stares at his feet and frowns, rubbing at his forehead. "I figured. You're such a martyr, Derek. It's pathetic."

The Alpha's heart shatters at his feet. Of course something like this would happen. Peter knew, all along. If Stiles leaves permanently, Derek will die. And Derek basically just told him to leave, and he did—or, will be, soon. Stiles is leaving.

Stiles is _leaving_.

Derek is _dying._

Derek swallows and breathes through his nostrils, and the air is hot and heavy. He tries to swallow against the growing ball of pressure in his throat but his tongue feels like it will crack open and suffocate him, and his eyes sting so painfully that he can't blink the tingling away.

The whimpering begins, echoing within his skull and Derek wants to scream. _Stiles, come back to me_, his wolf cries, _Derek, please find Stiles,_ it pleads. You knew, all along, didn't you? Derek wonders, and if wolf is silent for a moment, he counts that as a yes. _Derek, please. Find Stiles. We need Stiles._ It answers back in a soft, far away voice.

Derek thinks it's the first time his wolf has ever asked for something both of them needs, and that hurts more than anything else.

Peter pushes himself off the back of the couch and walks towards his nephew and pats him on the shoulder gingerly. Derek flinches away, jerking his body from Peter's grip as the pain from his shoulder rakes down his spine and settles in his tailbone like a coil of heavy heat.

When Derek looks up at him, Peter's lips are pulled down in a deep frown. "It's already started, hasn't it? The pain?"

Derek nods hesitantly, grasping his shoulder and tentatively rolling his muscles apart.

"Get used to that feeling, nephew." Peter reaches out to touch Derek's shoulder comfortingly again, but the Alpha snarls and rubs at the tender muscles.

Peter's hand falls away slowly and Derek can see that, despite the psychotic rampage his Uncle had gone on before, Peter still cared; still loved Derek in some twisted, crazy way.

"The pain will grow and stay with you till the day you die, if you let that boy leave you now."

Peter turns and leaves, stalking down the steps to his sports car, and Derek wonders if it will kill him to watch Stiles leave like that.


	6. Deep

**The Wild Ones  
**_Deep_

_**"A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover."  
**__-Charles Bukowski_

* * *

The day after Peter's visit, Derek walks out onto his burned down porch and finds a small package at his doorstep, wrapped in brown paper. A note is attached to the cord holding the package together, and Derek gives it s skeptical look, as if willing it to disappear.

Derek reaches down hesitantly and holds the package up, flipping it over in his hands before fondling the note, ripping it open and scanning it briefly.

_For you, nephew.  
__Read as much as you can, while you have the time. Learn what you need and don't lose sight.  
__Best wishes,  
__Peter Hale_

Derek rips the package open curiously, finding an old book with fire-kissed pages and a broken spine, smelling like an overwhelming amount of smoke and vanillian.

The copy of his father's werewolf bestiary burns in his hands; a heavy weight and a burden he's not quite ready to completely learn about. His chest constricts against his ribcage and Derek tries to resist the urge to cry.

A dull, aching settles once more in his tailbone, creeping down his left femur in an attempt to eat away at his bones.

* * *

Summer comes to an end, passing by in a quick sequence of pack gathering sunsets and lake trips and endless amounts of couple-y cuteness that make both Derek and Stiles want to vomit.

The warm summer days become balmy fall mornings, and Derek and Stiles hardly talk at all.

The burnt-out shell of the Hale house becomes the local hang out for the pack of baby werewolves and a few closely-knit, stupidly smart humans. Derek doesn't bother voicing his opposition to the group continually gathering at his house—because no one aside from Isaac bothers to listen anymore. And really, if he's honest with himself—though he never really is—he misses hearing Stiles' voice.

Something akin to guilt fills Derek's stomach as he glances over at the cause of all of his woes, sitting in the farthest corner of the living room. The guilt churns slowly; like an engine on a cold, snowy day. There's a light laugh amongst the teenagers in the other room, followed by a giggle and a snarky reply that Derek pays no mind to, because the guilt turns over in his chest once more and swallows up his tongue whole.

The last time he remembers genuine laughter being in this house; there were people he loved, people he cherished living in it. The whimpering of his wolf within his soul echoes the sorrow of loss Derek feels, and he looks away from the boy—from his mate.

Derek listens into the conversation in the other room to try and drown out his sadness. Scott is telling everyone that he's planning on staying in state and going to the city college up the road so he can stay close to his mother and Allison.

Lydia, Jackson, Stiles and Boyd are getting ready to go out of state to their universities around the country. They talk about staying in dorms and getting apartments and rooming with friends in surrounding cities and for Jackson, staying in his parents' vacation house for the semester—"you've got to be kidding me! Seriously?!" Stiles cries., a whine on the tip on his tongue.

"Shut up, Stiles. Don't be jealous." Lydia giggles as her hand tightens around her boyfriends collar.

"But it's a_ vacation home._ Why can't you be normal?!" Stiles glares at Jackson and the Lacrosse captain only shrugs.

The group giggles and Scott blatantly laughs at Stiles' sour faced expression. "Whatever." The boy tugs at the sleeves of his red hoodie and bites at the straw sticking out of his gas-station soda cup enthusiastically.

"Well, come on, spill. Where are you staying?" Lydia tries to encourage Stiles to talk more. He's been quieter than normal, and Lydia—being who she is and holding the kind of sway she does over Stiles—grows weary of his silence.

The boy smiles up at her and closes his eyes as his head falls back against the scorched wall with a sigh. Derek eyes the pale column of Stiles' exposed neck and follows the soft bulge of his Adam's apple up to his lips, and curiously, he wonders what it would feel like to bury his teeth in the pale, creamy skin at the crook of Stiles' neck.

He shivers and tries to drown out Stiles' voice when he says he'll be renting an apartment down the street from his university till he graduates—he's already put a down payment on it, and it's cozy and decent, besides, after his drive there, he'll probably just sleep on the floor till school starts.

So Stiles will be going—will be _leaving_ Derek. For at least four years. Derek shoves his face into his hands and wonders if he'll live that long; though honestly, Derek isn't afraid to die, as long as Stiles can live without him happily.

"Guys, Thanksgiving and winter break will be the next time we all see each other," Lydia beams up at Jackson, and the lacrosse captain leans down to kiss her gently. Derek had heard Jackson say that the two of them were going away to separate universities and Derek wonders how they'll survive the distance. But, they're both incredibly stubborn, so he's sure Lydia will find a way to keep the boy interested regardless.

"I may or may not be coming back for Thanksgiving," Boyd states hesitantly, then shrugs as Erica glares at him. "It just depends on the mid-term schedule, babe."

"Oh, they'll give you a break." Allison pipes up, laughing light heartedly. "Even if you iare/i loading yourself down this semester."

"Not all the time! My brother had to skip Thanksgiving a few times due to mid-terms." Boyd raises a brow at the group and only Stiles snickers back.

"Don't worry, Boyd. Stiles and I know how you feel." Lydia tries again, but Stiles only nods in agreement. The strawberry blonde sighs in defeat and looks up at Jackson, who shrugs down at her.

Erica says she doesn't want to go to college; just a simply trade school somewhere in the area will do for her—she says she'll go and get a certificate in something—"maybe I'll be an LPN. Not as much responsibility as a RN, but the job still pays good, and it's not nearly as restrictive of a schedule," she tries to reason with the group as some of them look upon her in slight trepidation, but Derek doesn't really care to share his input.

Boyd tells everyone he's moving his flight to another day to make sure Erica won't panic about him leaving—which earns him an inhumanly angry growl from the blonde at his side—but regardless, she will throw a fit as soon as she realizes Boyd won't be there within arms reach anymore. It's just a matter of time, and thank God Derek is still there to keep her in line.

Isaac just says he's going to get a job and start school when he has the money and the stability to do so. Scott nudges his shoulder encouragingly, and Isaac bats him away. "School can wait; I'm young and restless."

The group falls into a comfortable silence after that, huddled close together in the living room; like a family—like a pack. The sun filters in through the ruined walls, warming the room and disturbed only by the soft, floating particles in the air. The atmosphere becomes serine, and Derek feels himself becoming weightless.

Lydia and Jackson stay within each other's arms on the couch. Jackson cradles Lydia on his lap while she laces her hands together behind his back and rests her head on his chest.

Boyd and Erica sit against the wall together, just breathing each other in and smiling.

Allison and Scott keep smiling at each other, their fingers dancing around each other's hands playfully. They're going to the city college together, so they'll make it—they'll be fine.

Isaac curls up against Scott and nods off, his head rolling forward and to the side.

Stiles is silent after that, but mostly he just relaxes into the corner and the group begins discussing another topic quietly. He begins playing a game of solitaire on his phone with his tongue poking out the side of his lips and Derek can't tear his eyes away from him.

The clicking of the boys fingers against his phone echoes faintly within Derek's skull, and it drives the Alpha mad.

Stiles sighs after a moment, looking up and locking eyes with the Alpha before he's frowning and tearing his vision away, as if his eyes burned to catch sight of Derek. The boy picks up his backpack and leaves the Hale house and the pack behind without even saying goodbye.

Lydia looks after him, almost running to catch up to him before Jackson shakes his head and asks her to stay—rather nicely, for once. She sighs in defeat again, looking after Stiles worriedly, then nods her head and goes back to standing beside her other half. She fidgets, glancing out after the boy until he reaches his Jeep.

Scott looks worriedly out the window as his best friend leaves without a word, then back up at the Alpha with a hard stare. _"Go after him,"_ Scott mouths venomously.

Stiles will be on the road tomorrow morning, and Derek feels his stomach drop once more.

* * *

The pack leaves the Hale house not long after Stiles, and as they all say their goodbyes, the reality that this is going to be the last time they all see each other, at least for a while, sinks in. A few tears are shed by the ladies as they hug each other goodbye and the boys take a moment to kick the dirt around and stare at the ground awkwardly, and if they hug just a tad bit longer than normal, no one says anything.

Derek bites the inside of his cheek and swallows hard. He hops in his Camaro after everyone has finished their goodbyes and leaves. He drives to Stiles' house and waits for the sun to go down.

He knows Stiles had planned to do a decently long road trip to his university in his Jeep, packed with some boxes in a small trailer pulled behind him and a cooler full of junk food and soda.

Derek worries for Stiles' safety, but tries to push it out of his mind as he waits till the boy is done packing his room into boxes and bags. He stares in through the window as Stiles hesitates on a framed picture of his mother for just a moment before placing it inside a bigger box. Stiles closes the box gently, running a hand over the cardboard lovingly as he tapes it shut with just a little more effort.

The Sherriff stands in Stiles' doorway, just watching with a small smile tugging at his lips. He doesn't say much, but Derek knows he's just trying to make sure Stiles is comfortable and i_ready_./i The boys' father walks further into Stiles' room with a sigh and pats his son on the shoulder, saying; "I'm so proud of you, son. She would be too, you know…" His voice trails off and Derek can hear the Sherriff's heart skip for a moment at the thought of his late wife and the picture in the last box.

Stiles smiles back and scoffs, trying to lighten the mood. "Of course she would. It's the same college you two met at."

The Sherriff cups the side of Stiles face and plants a kiss on his sons' forehead. "Whatever. Kick ass, son. Get away from here and succeed and build a life. Come home when you can and call when you get there, got it." It's more of a demand than a question and Stiles knows it.

The Sherriff ruffles Stiles slightly longer hair and smiles, awkwardly patting the side of his sons face before turning and closing the door.

"I'll make sure Mellissa knows to feed you healthily while I'm gone, old man!" The boy calls after his father, and Derek can hear the uneven, breaking sound of the Sherriff's heart as he tries to laugh whole-heartedly at his sons jest.

* * *

Stiles turns back to his duty at hand and sighs. There are about ten medium sized boxes full of things from his room that are going to furnish his tiny new apartment in the states over, and they're all piled up against his walls in a small group.

He smiles, because he's going to have to get up early to pack all these boxes into the small trailer behind his Jeep. He's an adult now. He's going off to build a life in a new state, in a new place—_away from confusing werewolves._

Stiles scratches the back of his head and falls backwards onto his bed, reaching for his phone and staring at the screen. A text from Scott pops up on his phone and Stiles reads it over and over and over again without really registering what it says. Eventually he doesn't even try and just tosses the phone aside, scrubbing his hands over his face in exhaustion.

* * *

The music plays softly in the background as Derek sits inside his car, white knuckling his steering wheel and staring ahead until the sun falls below the horizon. Darkness creeps over the city like a blanket, encompassing everything in black. The stars shine bright, poking small, soft light through the blackness, and Derek opens his door and walks across the Sherriff's lawn till he's underneath the boy's window.

He can hear the way the boys' chest raises and falls evenly, and wonders for a moment if he's asleep or not. Derek climbs up to the window and peers in, only to be met with deep, brown eyes staring straight back at him. Derek would have jumped in surprise if he hadn't been craving seeing Stiles this close for so long.

Stiles seems unamused as he opens his window and stares at Derek blankly.

"Need something?" Stiles asks, leaning out his window hesitantly. His shoulder square up, as if he's guarding himself.

Derek gaps at him for a moment before Stiles rolls his eyes and backs away from the window, motioning for Derek to come inside. He does, crawling eagerly through the window and into the warm room. His wolf whines softly from within, and the dull, steady aching of Derek's weary bones seem to ebb away slowly with Stiles' only inches away once more.

"Stiles," Derek says piteously, and it feels as if he hadn't spoken in a million years. His lungs heave at the escape of the boys name from his lips and his body feels heavy, almost drowsy.

Stiles glances over his shoulder at the Alpha but then turns away, moving boxes around so they'll be easier for him to carry down in the morning.

Derek's stomach churns violently as he watches Stiles shuffle about, ignoring him so _easily_; when this little visit was one of the most difficult things Derek had ever had to do in his entire life. When the boy doesn't turn to face him or acknowledge him any further, Derek's blood boils and his skin suddenly feels too warm and too heavy and too _angry_.

He takes a step forward and feels his claws elongate as he grips Stiles by the shoulder and spins him around forcefully, pinning him against his door. "Look at me!" The Alpha growls, his voice quick and stiff as he morphs into his Beta form almost unwillingly.

Derek snarls and Stiles yelps, fighting against his hold. He gains no purchase as he flails in Derek's inhumanly strong grip, screeching; "what are you doing, Derek?"

"Look at me." Derek demands, his teeth too big for his mouth, peeking out over his lips. Stiles gaps at him quietly, his throat tightening as he stares straight into Derek's eyes with something akin to hurt.

"Derek, I am looking at you." He mutters softly, glancing down at the hands holding him against the wall, at the claws threatening to tear the skin of his biceps.

The aching seeps away from Derek's bones, away from his muscles and skin, as if the pain washes away by touching Stiles—and Derek knows that _exactly_ the reason. _Derek,_ his wolf calls, softer than an echo. The Alpha shakes his head, trying to

"Why are you even here?" Stiles hisses through a tightened jaw, his mouth feeling numb with regret. Stiles' eyes burn into Derek once more, willing him to speak of his own accord.

The Alpha scowls, his chest vibrating against Stiles' breastbone as he licks at his teeth, still too big for his mouth. Stiles watches as the older man's eyes flicker between pale green and brilliant, horrifying red—and he knows a silent war is waging inside of Derek, just waiting to boil over into all-out chaos.

Derek's wolf roars in his head and the man pauses, listening as Stiles stares into his eyes defiantly, his heart beat erratic and unfamiliar. _No, Derek. Don't let your anger get the best of you._ His wolf pleads softly, then vanishes completely.

Derek shakes his head and his transformation halts for just a moment, then recedes calmly, morphing his face back into his human form.

Stiles breathes just slightly easier, watching as the coarse hair around Derek's face disappears beneath his skin. The youth grips the older man's leather jacket between his fists and shoves hard against his chest, but Derek fights against the push, crowding up in Stiles space with a vengeances sewed into bottom lip. He growls softly at the youth—a small warning—and Stiles isn't as frightened by the sound this time—now that it's more human-like.

"I don't understand you, Derek." Stiles admits hesitantly, softly, glancing at Derek's lips before glaring up into the man's face. "I don't know why you came here. I would have been fine had you just let me go off to college and get over my stupid crush on you!" He hisses venomously, his eyes burning and prickling. He pushes the sensation to the back of his mind and blinks the stringing away. "But you just _had_ to encourage it, didn't you? You just had to kiss me too, huh?" Stiles bites back, tearing into scabbed-over wounds.

And damnit—Derek thinks as he flinches and backs off of the youth—the boys' bite is vicious and painful.

_Can you blame him?_ The wolf sneers from within.

Derek growls lowly; a dark, strangled laugh caught in his throat. "You wouldn't have gotten over it, Stiles." His voice is heavy and husky, and Stiles tries so hard not to be seduced by it, but rather continues to fight against Derek's hold. Even when the Alpha drags Stiles' into his chest and curls his arms around the youths' back.

"Listen." Derek calls gently, his hand reaching up to touch Stiles' face, even when the boy yanks himself away from the Alpha's touch with a defiant glare. Derek doesn't try to touch him again, only whispers; "You're my mate. The feelings wouldn't have gone away, no matter the distance you put between us. I'm sorry, I've put it all in motion too soon—"

"Shut up, Derek!" Stiles cries, and Derek knows Stiles doesn't want to hear this—hear any of it—on his last night at home. "Why send me away, why deny me if I'm your fucking mate then, huh?" Stiles snarls, shoving against Derek's chest—and the man lets him go, lets him put the distance between them, just like he had all summer. "Why don't you just come with me, you _asshole?_" And his voice is soft, broken in places Derek wouldn't have thought possible.

Derek shakes his head. "You need time to sort this out for yourself." He has to be strong—he has to be the strong one. i_No, Derek,/_i his wolf cringes at Stiles' broken appearance.

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit, Derek. Save it for someone who cares." Stiles shakes his head, a snarl evident on his lips as his eyes burn into Derek's face again.

But Stiles is losing the battle with himself. He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. He chews on his lip as he looks away from Derek, ignoring the cry his mind releases when Derek isn't in his line of sight anymore. "What do you want from me, Derek?" He asks, his voice tired; and this is the first time Derek notices the dark bags under his mate's eyes, the hollowness of his cheeks and the strikingly squared jawline.

_H_e_ is our mate, Derek. Tell him, tell him again!_ The wolf growls furiously, and Derek can hear the creature snarling from within.

"I don't know," Derek answers, biting his tongue; because they are something; they're more than _just something. _The wolf hesitates, a growl evident before it all goes quiet once more.

Derek hears silence.

"Just stop, Derek. Just _s__top,_ the tough-guy attitude." Stiles grounds out, fists clenched as he looks back up at Derek. His cheeks are red and his eyes radiate hurt. "You said I was your mate, _just now_. And that crazy Alpha chick from the forest, she called me your—"

"Mate." Derek finishes, and the wolf within him is still silent, which is worrying in itself. "Yeah, well, she's right." His eyes travel to the boy's lips briefly before returning to his face, and he feels a sense of longing that can't quiet be quenched with a glance. "She smelled you on me. Me on you. She could see that I'd marked you a few weeks ago."

Stiles gasps, staring at him with an unbelieving surprised expression. Derek reaches out quickly; his fingers tighten around Stiles' frail human wrists as he tries to explain—tries to save everything. "I was trying to tell you, I put it all in motion without knowing—"

"Did you pee on me in my sleep or something disgusting like that because I swear to God, Derek oh my god if you peed on me we are going to have words—every angry words, mister—"

Derek slaps a hand over the boys' mouth and sputters as he registers what Stiles just asked him.

He sighs and tries not to laugh at the comical expression Stiles wears like a mask. He moves his hand away from the youth's mouth and touches the side of the boys face with the back of his hand soothingly and chuckles. "Shut up, Stiles. I'm trying to find words to explain myself."

Stiles stays quiet, scrutinizing him suspiciously.

"Will you listen now?" Derek asks, his voice melodious.

Stiles nods slowly, the lines in his forehead smoothing out as the tension is brushed away from him. His shoulders fall, easing up.

Derek sighs heavily. "I, I didn't know about Alpha's going into heat around their potential mates, okay? Especially if they spend copious amounts of time together. I didn't _know,_ Stiles, or I wouldn't have marked you as my mate so soon." Derek feels like he's pleading, begging for _something,_ though, he doesn't know _what_ exactly. "All I knew is that I wanted to mark you as mine, to keep you safe, to ward off others and protect you from—from e_verything_."

Derek speaks so fast that he doesn't know if he's even taken a breath till now, but Stiles now has a bewildered look on his face and Derek doesn't know what to do now but spew useless facts about what he'd been told as a child. "My-my dad taught us how to mark our mates, when we find them." He looks at the hold he has on Stiles, at his fingers encompassing the youth's wrist, and he marvels at the contrast in their skin colors. "I didn't know anything else until Peter gave me my dad's book."

Stiles bites his lip and pulls at Derek's grip absently, but quickly gives up after the Alpha gives nothing in return. Derek almost crumbles when he watches Stiles gnaw at his lip and ask softly; "when did you mark me?" He searches his skin for any discoloration or mark—yet, he doesn't find one and he suddenly becomes agitated. He glares at Derek defiantly, tugging at the hold Derek has on him once more.

Derek smiles softly, crowding in on Stiles' space once more as he presses their foreheads together and holds the others gaze. "You won't be able to see it. Only supernatural beings can." He answers Stiles' unspoken question, before answering his first one. "And, well, it was a few months ago, towards the end of your graduation."

Stiles scoffs, rolling his eyes. He doesn't move away from Derek, doesn't fight the hold he has on him, but rather closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of everything that is precisely _Derek_.

And this is exactly why Stiles does the planning, with some help from Lydia. No one thinks about the consequences of their actions.

The atmosphere calms down, becoming somewhat serine, and suddenly Derek feels too _heavy_ and too _drowsy_ all over again. He leans more weight into Stiles.

"Right," the youth sighs, his mind reeling. "Yeah, I remember reading parts of the bestiary, but not much. It mentioned something about Alpha's marking their potential mates in the Mating section that I came across. There's normally more than one though, right?"

"You tell me. I never really read it, either."

"I didn't read the whole thing, Derek!" Stiles whines, his brows furrowed, "I mean it was like, two hundred and eighty pages on the _mating_ section alone, dude! I didn't even get to the _heat_ section!" He grumbles something about; "_coulda been more help with the whole situation if I had._"

Derek chuckles softly, and Stiles glares at him. "Well?" He asks again, his brow creases and Derek wants to kiss it away.

"You're the only one I want. You're the only one I've ever marked."

Stiles nods slowly, the skin of his forehead pulling at Derek's as it smooth's out. The Alpha listens to the boy's heartbeat. It's familiar this time; calm and easy and flowing.

Yet still, the wolf within him is silent; though, content this close to its mate. Derek feels a soft pang of aching in his stomach that gnaws at his nerves, and he can't keep his words in anymore. He screws his eyes shut as he speaks; because he doesn't want to see the disgust in Stiles' face when he's said his final peace.

"Stiles, I-I'm not going to stop you from leaving and going to college, and I'm not going to sit here and tie you down with commitments I know you can't rightfully keep. You need to experience life and everything it entails. Promise me you will, regardless of-of-well, of _this_?" He gestures between the two of them quickly before finding Stiles' wrist once more and gripping it tightly.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it when he finds he has nothing to say. He contemplates what Derek is asking of him, and it doesn't feel right—it feels wrong; it feels dirty and shady and, just, _wrong_. He opens his mouth again, and his sigh washes over Derek like a cool, refreshing breeze.

"I won't be the reason you die, Derek." Stiles whispers, fighting the growing ball of pressure in his throat.

Derek's eyes shoot open in surprise. _No,_ his wolf says, but its voice is far away, soft and foreboding. It's silent again after that, and there's a tugging at the bottom of Derek's stomach that he can feel all the way down in his toes. Of course, Stiles had read part of the bestiary, after all; he'd have known the main points at least—that an Alpha would die if it was separated from its mate for too long.

The boy chews on his bottom lip and tries to give a reassuring smile, but his eyes are glistening with worry and an unspoken pain. Derek reacts without thinking and lunges forward, claiming Stiles' lips for his own.

Stiles grunts softly out of surprise, but reciprocates instantly, eager and needy and _ready_. He pulls Derek in deeper, sliding his tongue out to lick at the Alpha's bottom lip sensually. Their teeth clank together briefly as Derek moans softly and opens his mouth, arms encircling Stiles' frail human body and lifting him off his feet. The Alpha moves them steadily towards the teenager's bed, falling on top of the boy's body with a soft _umph_. He holds Stiles close; their tongues mashing together and their lips becoming raw and red with a hunger that slowly consumes everything.

Teeth nip and bite and tug at Stiles' skin relentlessly, tracing jawlines and traveling further south eagerly. A moan echoes wantonly against the walls of the youth's room, and the Alpha's chest vibrates against Stiles' breastbone in a way that Stiles _suddenly understands _everything he's ever read about werewolves courtships. He knows now that Derek's wolf had claimed him long before Derek had even known he had feelings for him.

Stile thinks he remembers a quote from a book, or a song, or an artist that paints beautiful pictures, that goes something like; _'the conversation between your fingers and someone else's skin is the most important discussion you'll ever have,' _and right now, in this moment, with Derek's lips ghosting over his and in the way he can almost swallow up ever breath Derek takes; he suddenly believes every word of it.

Derek's hands slip into his and tighten around the spaces in between Stiles' fingers, effectively pinning the youth's hands to the mattress. Derek's body grinds atop him; the friction in their jeans casually rubbing together causes them both to groan heatedly. Stiles' breath hitches for a moment as his hips rock forward into Derek, just before the Alpha's tongue slips past his lips once more and explores the deeper cavern of his mouth.

Stiles can taste the slick saliva that coats his lips and he moans deeply, disregarding the stubble burn he knows he'll wake with in the morning as he fights to dominate Derek's mouth with his own. The feeling of his jeans becoming too tight for his liking eats away at his soul, and a familiar aching, burning sensation begins to build in his lower abdomen with the building friction.

"Derek," he breathes as the Alpha's lips move down his jaw and claim his neck, nipping lightly and causing goose bumps all over Stiles' body. Derek growls softly in response, and the vibration of his chest against Stiles' ribs is surely committed to the boy's memory instantly. "Take me," Stiles begs, his cheeks rosy-red and his lips swollen and raw. "Please," he adds, and his voice cracks unevenly.

Derek pulls away slightly, taking in the sight of his ruined mate below him, and he seemingly can't deny himself the pleasure of staying; of i_taking_/i his mate, at least once before he's out of reach and across the country.

The thought makes him pause. Stiles will be out of reach tomorrow. _Don't think about it right now, Derek. Just enjoy this, right here. Enjoy this moment_. His wolf begs, and Derek can't tell the difference between his wolf and his conscious anymore.

The Alpha nods once, pushing apart Stiles' thighs and fitting perfectly between them. He reaches over, turns off the bedside lamp and encases them in darkness.

* * *

"I'll be waiting for you when you come back. You don't have to worry about losing me." Derek whispers softly, glancing at the alarm clock at the bedside table as his arms tighten around the boys' bare shoulders. The red numbers scream 3:15am like a foreboding, haunting elephant in the room, and Derek contemplates re-setting Stiles' alarm for later in the day so he can get a proper nights rest before heading onto the road.

"But I won't have you with me." Stiles murmurs back, his teeth grazing the hard skin of Derek's slick, sweat-ridden chest before he bites down. The older man hisses out of surprise as Stiles giggles and trails light, teasing kisses down the man's stomach. "You're basically saying you want to date me, but only when I'm in town? That's not nice." Stiles stops just below Derek's belly button and stares up at the Alpha, and Derek feels his sex twitching at the sight of the youth's unruly, lustful eyes.

Derek chuckles, pushing his body's desires to the back of his mind as he leans his head against the pillow propping his head up. "That's not what I mean and you know it." He sighs.

"No, no, really. Come on Derek, tell me. What exactly do you want me to do away from you that I can't do here." Stiles folds his arms over Derek's stomach and rests his chin atop his forearms, staring up at Derek and waiting for an answer with a pointed glare and a curiously raised brow.

Derek's fingers connect with Stiles' face and he strokes the boys' cheek lovingly, fiddling with the longer strands of hair behind his ear. He clears his throat. "You got into a great school, Stiles. I want you to go there and get your education. If you meet someone there, well, I'll always be waiting here for you, whenever you decide to come back to me." Stiles makes a disgruntled noise but Derek holds up a hand to stop him from interrupting. "I'm giving you an out. I'm giving you _options_. Just because you're _my_ mate doesn't mean I'm _your _mate, Stiles." Stiles snorts comically, rolling his eyes. "You are still human, and you may feel a draw towards me, but that doesn't mean I've staked my claim on you. Yet." Derek grins sardonically and Stiles smirks.

"Fine. Whatever. I get it." This time, Derek rolls his eyes. "But I'm not letting you go, Sourwolf." Stiles crawls up to Derek's chest and places a kiss on the man's lips for a moment too long before pulling away. Derek groans, feeling the heat building up in his abdomen once more.

His wolf howls heatedly within his head, panting like a madman at the sight of Stiles; bare and nude above him, unabashed, unashamed. Stiles' cocks his head to the left, smirking down at the Alpha, amused. "You're mine, even if you don't fully acknowledge it. i_Yet_./i" He teases, biting a small pattern of soft, sensual nips at the Alpha's collarbone.

Derek pulls the bare body above him down to the bed, twisting their positions so Derek is leaning half his weight onto the youth. He places a sweet, slow, lingering kiss on the boys red lips and trails his hands all over Stiles' abdomen till the boy in moaning and begging for Derek to touch him all over again.

"You better not forget about me when you're gone." Derek mutters, trying to sound as threatening as he can.

"I couldn't even if I tried." Stiles responds by attacking Derek once more as they roll in sweat-slickened sheets. Derek growls Stiles' name passionately and slowly, slowly, the doubt seeps away from Stiles' mind with the fall of the moon and the rise of the sun.

* * *

And, as nature intended, the ball of blazing heat and blinding light steadily comes up over the horizon mere hours later, shining through the window at the two lovers almost tauntingly.

The light burns Stiles' skin and makes his bones ache and muscles burn, reminding him of the night of undaunted passion he shared with a certain werewolf. He smiles before blinking away the sleep encrusting his eyes. He registers sometime between then and now that Derek is awake and tracing the love bites and slight discolorations of Stiles skin with light brushes of his fingers.

The light pours into the room then, taking with it the first and last night they shared together. Stiles blinks widely, and Derek just smiles, _actually smiles_, down at Stiles as he touches the boys cheek gently.

"Morning," Stiles grumbles groggily, and his muscles cry out in protest as he turns over in Derek's arms, his back facing the Alpha as he snuggles closer.

The Alpha hums a reply, tightening his hold on the boy and kissing the crook of his neck gently. His wolf buzzes in satisfaction, reaching through Derek for a moment and nipping at Stiles' shoulder, memorizing a certain invisible mark he planted there only months ago. His tongue darts out and traces the lines and curves of the mark, before kissing away the wet substance.

Stiles giggles at the sensation and smiles—but then it all vanishes as he glances at the clock. His alarm must have been reset sometime during the night, because instead of waking him at 6am, it is now 8am. "I have to leave soon." He mutters, an air of disappointment gathering around them.

Derek stiffens, resting his chin in the crook of Stiles shoulder and neck. His arms pull the boy's back closer to his chest. "I know." He breathes, closing his eyes.

"Come with me." Stiles begs, turning to face the Alpha.

Derek smirks crookedly, kissing Stiles' forehead. "Some day, I'll go back to New York. For now, you go. I'll be here, taking care of the pack till you return."

Stiles frowns, but nods softly. "You will come visit though, right?"

Derek chuckles and nods. Satisfied with his answer, Stiles kisses Derek once, twice, then finally a third time before getting up. His body aches, and Derek watches as he stiffly gets dressed once more, memorizing the placement of artistically placed beauty marks and scars and newly formed, angry love bites and bruises. Derek memorizes the lines of Stiles slender back muscles, calf muscles, bicep muscles and the faint veins in the youth's forearms that bulge when strained.

A familiar pain seeps back into Derek's shoulder, spiraling down his spine and coiling in his tailbone hotly, sneaking viciously down his femur and curling in his heel.

* * *

With the boxes packed into the trailer, the cooler stuffed with only a few cans of soda and miscellaneous junk food bags strewn about his Jeep, Stiles makes his way to New York in five days.

He sighs as he stares at the numbers plastered across his apartment door, screaming down at him angrily. He doesn't know if he should be happy or sad that he's finally in New York, on his own, but right now, all he feels is exhaustion.

The prickling sensation at the back of his eyes beg him to unpack later and just go inside and lay on the floor for a few hours till he feels like waking up and unpacking. Maybe tomorrow, when he has the energy to move around and his muscles don't ache from sitting for five days and he has actual food in his stomach that doesn't make his body ache and give him the cold sweats.

Stiles sighs as he pushes open the door and walks inside. His phone feels like a weight in his pocket, and it's suffocating.

He shoots his dad a text, telling him he made it to his place. Stiles slowly closes the door behind him, sinking down to the floor in his living room and crawling to the center where he flops down. His body feels heavy and ripe with exhaustion. He glances back at his phone, his thumb hoovers over Derek's name for a moment before he's pressing the button and holding the phone to his ear.

The Alpha picks up after the first ring and Stiles smiles.

_Did you make it?_ Derek asks from the other end, sounding a little out of breath.

Stiles doesn't ask. "Yeah, but I'm tired."

_Go to sleep._

"Okay."

_Call me when you wake up._

"You'll answer, right?" Stiles voice is sluggish as he buries his head in his arms. He could close his eyes for just a moment, then he'll unpack.

_Yes, Stiles. Now go to sleep. You start your classes in what, three days?_

"Mhm."

_…You're falling asleep, aren't you?_

The other end in quiet except for soft, even breathing. Derek smiles softly and lays down on his new bed in his new apartment, curling his body around a comforter that smells like plastic and retail stores.

He puts the phone on speaker beside him so he can listen to the far-away breathing of his mate, and he closes his eyes, ignoring the pain settling deep in his bones.


End file.
